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THE
NOETH LOJS^SDALE
MAG A Z I N E
AND
LAKE DISTRICT MISCELLANY;
A MONTHLY 8ERIAL OP PAST AND CURRENT
LOCAL LITERATURE AND NEWS.
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MORRIS, RA.S.L.
'*Thi8 Khe a public Iwn provides a treat,
Where eadi promiscucua truest aits doum to sat;
Arid swh this mental food, as we may caU
Something to aXL men, and to soma men aXL^^-Cralbbs.
y VOL. I. 9^^-
A4H
ulyebston:
PRINTED AT THE "ADVEETISBB" OFFIOB, THE OIIL.
1867.
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./>-
AP ■ ■;• ^4
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PEEFACE.
In the-'O soTiv.i'^Toiml days it is a rlifficult thing, hr wc have fonti'l
to our cost, for a Miscellany devoted to solid literature to obtain a
permanent footing. We have, however, done our best to please
the public of Lonsdale North ; but like the old man with his ass,
have neither ])1 eased ourselves nor onr readers. Several friends
have objected to onr raa-razine on account of its being too heavy ;
whilst one — a lady — declined to subscribe any longer — "cw she does
not read romance" If in the multitude of counsellers there is
wisdom, we should by this time have been a very Solon, as we
have been inundated with "advice gratis." We are, however,
inclined to think that had we carried out but a few of the
suggestions, our magazine would have been a very singular pro-
duction. In our selection of the articles which have appeared, we
may say with the poet —
" We plucked the fruits which promised best,
And when not sure, perplexed, but pleased, we guessed
At such as seemed the foirest"
To those correspondents, who— not volunteering advice— have
contributed to our pages, we beg to return our most grateful
thanks ; and to those of our friends who promised much and
performed little^ we give a general pardon. To the local press,
also, our thanks are due — more especially to the Ulverston
Advertiser^ Ulverston Mi/rror, Whitehaven Nev9s, and Kendal
Mer&u/ry — ^for the very generous notices they have given us.
And now to the next generation we dedicate this little volume,
feeling assured that when the knowledge of its conductor having
been a self-educated working-man has passed away, '* The North
Lonsdale Magazine'' will be read with interest by many.
Ulv^rstoth, January/ 2Sth, 1867.
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CONTENTS.
PAaB.
A Classical and PhUosophical Novel , . . . 33, 73, 121
A Legend of Urswick Tarn . 90
A Legend of Conistone . . . . r . . . 294
A Tributary Record (Poetiy) .214
A Philosophical Romance 153, 198
Aldingham 83, 159, 218
American Wit and Humour 243
Antiquities of Fumess and Oartmel 100
Arval Bread at Funerals 59
Barrow, Sir John . . . \ . . . 113, 172, 205
Bigg, J. S 2
Bone Oaves of Oartmel 166
Oorrespondence 69, 190, 267
Editor's Book Oase . . . / . . 29, 67, 187, 266, 302
Fox, George . . . 133, 179
Gems from our Local Poets 26,63
Glacial Drift of Fumess 223
Hawkshead Town, Church, and School . , . . 254^ 277
kirkby Ireleth . , 11,43
Kitty Dawson . . . . , 298
Monthly Summary of Local Events . . 3^, 72, Ul, 151, 191, 274
Notices to Correspondents . . . , 3% 72, 112, 1$2, X92, 236, 276
Occasional Notes 104
Remonstrance (Poetry) ........ 18
Rum Butter at ChristenijQgjs 22
Songs and Ballads of Cumberland ...... 187
Stone Cold ! Stone Cold I (Poetey) ...... 264
Terraces of Fumess ♦ . 55
The Geologist and Joe 237
The Braes of Yarrow 285
The Troutbeck Giant 299
To our Readers ......... 1
Urswick Tam X41
Varieties 31, 107, 160, 191, 269, 306
Volunteering sixty-three years ago - 20
Waifs and Strays ...... 71,110,148,273,302
Were the Ancient Britons Iron Mineisf ..... ^93
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THE
AND T.ATTT! DISTBIOT MISGELLAIIT.
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MOREIS, F.A.S.Ii.
No. 1. JULY, 1866. Vol. I.
We offer no excuse for the appearance of our magazine. We do
not assume that it is intended to supply "a want long felt," but
we simply launch our little barque as an experiment, trusting to
the kind indulgence of our readers for support, which we shall
exert oui-selves to the utmost to deserve. We are aware that we
may be stigmatised by some as over burdened with self-esteem,
and labouiing under a high degree of presumption, in supposing
that there is scope in this district for a monthly periodical of the
chaittcter this is designed to maintain ; but, having previously
broached the subject to a few of our friends, we received so much
encouragement to proceed, and sUch substantial offers of assistance,
that we determined to make the attempt.
Our chief claim on the public, and the one upon which we build
our hopes, is the fact that ours is a local work.
The greatest recommendation of this magazine will be its essen-
tially home properties — its subjects interesting, because familiar- -«
and, its object being to stimulate every one to a more intimate
acquaintance with the numerous valuable attractions of the imme-
diate neighbourhood, it must, ultimately, secure general acceptation.
The plan of the work will embrace Domestic and Literary Sketches,
Tales, Poems, Biographic, Historic, and Scientific Papers, all as far
as practicable beaiing upon this locality, which offers food for
many a theme in the rich stores of its traditional lore, natural and'
other products, nianners, customs, and peculiarities.
B
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Nothing of a party-political, or sectarian character will be
allowed to mar the general arrangement^ but our constant aim will
be to render our miscellany worthy of public esteem, by intro-
ducing articles of a simple and truthful description, and in common
with the progressive spirit of the age. We desire that the North
LoNSDALS Maqazhte shall be instructive to all, and offensive to
none.
While we appreciate the difficulties which lie in the way of
circulating with success a magazine of this class, we nevertheless
venture to brave the apparent risk, and in making the hazard, we
apply ourselves to the task with pleasure, resting on the modest
assurance that our efforts will command fair approval.
§0ml mttUkfi.
JOHN STANYAN BIGG.
The old aphorism, "whom the gods love die young," has recently
received another sad confirmation in the untimely death of the gifted
subject of this our first article on Local Worthies. There is always
something strangely attractive in the mental life history of those
rare young geniuses "^irho ever and anon rise by the power of their
intellect above the level of society, and are suddenly called away,
in the prime of life, to that "bourn" whence "no traveller
returns.*' We endeavour, by all the means at our disposal, to
acquii*e a knowledge of the whyl and how? such and such a bent
has been given to the mind ; and after all the available facts have
been raked up from their early life and education, we are irresistibly
led to the Horatian conclusion, Poeta tmscUv/t non Ht,
John Stanyan Bigg was bom at Ulverston, on the 14th of July,
1828, and from his boyhood gave abundant evidence of being
largely dowered with the divine affloutvSj the rich fruitage of which,
in his after years, has encircled his native place with a halo of
poetic glory. When but a youth of 18, his first poem, "a child
of many hopes and fears," was published, and although crude and
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immature a« the "Sea King'' was, it nevertheless contained many
passages of high poetic beauty, and at once gave him a position
among the rising young poets of the aga As a favourable example
of his early style, we quote the following stanza from the
"Valkyries' Chorus:"
"Sing, sisters, sing, while the dew-drops are steeping
The fair drooping flowers in the valley below ;
Sing, sisters, sing, ere warriors are sleeping
In the darkness of death, in the frenzy of woe.
"Sing, ere tumult drives his car
'Midst the bloody ranks of war,
Ere Mela's pestilential breath
Tells mortality of death.
Sing, for ere the pale moonlight
Breaketh on the depth of night,
A being, aye, as Nossa fair.
And pure and chaste as Giofhe,
Shall be beyond the reach of care,
In realms of peace and purity.''
About this time the Ulverston Advertiser was projected by the
late Mr. Stephen Soulby, and Mr. Bigg became its editor, which
poHt he held for several years, gaining the respect and esteem of his
numerous readers, from the judicious treatment in his leading
articles, of local subjects. A change also appears to have taken
place in his choice of mental food. The writer well remembers the
deep interest he took iu that remarkable work of Mrs. Crowe, "The
Night Side of Nature," and how his mind was deeply imbued with
its spiritual wonders. The works of Emerson, too, America's great
transcendentalist, with his pantheistic doctrines, clothed in a garb
always attractive to the youthful mind, next engaged his attention,
and he revelled in the glowing wealth of the mighty master. Nor
must we forget the weird-like influence of that most wonderful of
all modem poem«, "Festus." All these necessarily gave a tone
to his mind, and his next work, both in style and execution, was
totally dissimilar from the first. "Night and the Soul," was pub-
lished in 1854, and Mr. Bigg at once took a high position in that
modem school of poetry known as the "Spasmodic," which included
such men as Philip James Bailey, author of '^Festus;" Sydney
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Dofaell, author of the ''B^man/' << Balder/' &q: ; and Adei^udev
Smith, author of "A Life Drama." " Night and the Soul'* is ai
mystical drama, constructed on the type of '' Festus," and ccmtains^
many noble word-paintings of natural scenery, and of the innep lii^
of man. We subjoin a few extracts : the headiu^^ ahditdibs^s^rb^
our own.
THE OLD, OLD STORY.
"For she had loved and been deserted; and
All her heart's wealth was now returned to her
Base metal, and not current coin. Her love
Which went forth from her bright and beamtifiil.
Game back a ghastly corpse, to torn her heart
Into a bier, and chill it with its weight
Of passive woe fpr ever. But the shock
Had turned the poles of bdng; and henceforth,
In circles ever narrowing, ?ier soul
Went wheeling, like a stricken worldy rawnd heaven,^
DEATH.
''Ah ! there is something strangely grand in death.
One moment, and the soul still lingera here ;
Another, and 'tis gone to be with God ;
And then the haunted spot that ''knew it once
Knows it no more for ever."
UTTER LONELINESS.
'^I should be wretched as a cM lone Jwuse
Standing a mark vpon a northern moor,"
TRUE PIETY.
"The holy heart
Fulfils the dream of olden alchymists.
Taming all things it touches into gold.
A MAIDEN'S DEATH.
"From the bed arose
A sweet, wild sound, like that the zephyrs make
When they come crowding on the wind-harp's strings,
Then all was silent. And her eyes were fixed,
Trembling no more, like star-light in the dew,
One arm was laid upon the coverlet :
One thin^ white arm, like a pale streak ^ dofwnP
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A WSAE7 LIFE.
It is a weaiy, weaiy thing to lire,
And wish to die ; — to })e a flower within
Th^ hard, cpld gripe of Death, which he in spof t
Seems ever pulling at, but will not pluck ;
To feel the cold trail of the worm in life-^
Coffined^ but sentient still,"
Beautiful as the above extracts unquestionably are, the great
charm of "Night and the Soul" lies in the lyricaj pieces it con-
tains. Take for instance the following choice little bit of philosophy :
MUTUAL PBPBNDANCB.
^^Flow^is plead for grace to live ; and bees
Plead for the tinted domes of flowers ;
Streams rush into the big-soul'd seas ;
The seas yearn for the golden hours.
The moon pleads for her preacher, night.
Old octo pleadeth for the moon ;
^oon flies into the shades for re«t ;
The £ihades seek out the noon.
Life is an everlasting seeking,
Souls seek, and pant, and plead for truth :
Youth hangeth on the shirts ofage^
Age yeameth still towards youth,
** And thus all cling unto each other ;
For nought from all things else is riven*
Heaven bendeth o'er the prostrate earth,
Earth spreads her arms towards heaven.
For power and imagery we question whether any of our modem
young poets has written anything equal to the following two stanzas,
in which the winter of the year, and that dreary winter of humanity,
when tlie sunshine of our life has been darkened by death, are
beautifully depicted.
A LAMENT.
- ^I stand beside thy lonely grave my love.
The wet lands stretch below me like a bog ;
Darkness comes showering down upon me fast ;
The wind is whining like a houseless dog ;—
The cold, cold wind is whining round thy gmve.
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6
It comes up wet and dripiiiDg ttom the fen ;
The tawny twilight creeps into the dark,
Like a dun, angry lion to hie den.
There is a forlorn moaning in the air—
A sobbing round the spot where thou art sleephig ;
There is a dull glare in the wintry sky,
As though the eye of heaven were red with weeping.
Sharp gusts of tears come raining from the clouds,
The ancient church looks desokte and wild ;
There is a deep, cold shiver in the earth,
As though the great world hungered for her child."
Who has not seen that dull, leaden hue of the sky, or felt that
oppressive state of the atmosphere, the usual forerunners of a
thunder storm? But how many who have experienced those sensa-
tiomi, could have photographed them in such words as the foUowingt
THE PRECURSORS OP A STORM.
''No crimson glories hang about the west ;
No saint-like halos crown the broad-brow'd hill ;
Pale, drown'd in mists, the heavy sun goes doiiAi,
And leaves a leaden twilight, calm and still.
Long, ragged clouds hang sbping from the sky,
Like storm-rent banners on a battle-field.
And the calm heavens are spread above the world.
Gold and metallic as a gleaming shield.
Hush'd are the winds ; the very rills are choked ;
Wild, swarthy splendours were in heaven all day,
Mocking the pale fringed thunder clouds that roared
Like pallid panthers growling in their play.
A solemn hush is over sea and sky.
Save when hot pants come sobbing through the air,
And the low smothered moans that from afiir,
Tell where the lonely ocean makes his lair."
Throughout the pages of "Night and the Soul," almost wherever
the eye rests, ''gems of purest rays serene'' sparkle and flash, till
the mind is almost palled with the gorgeous wealth of imagery, and
we turn with a feeling of relief to the few more unambitious lyrics
contained in the volume.
Immediately after the publication of "Night and the Soul" Mr.
Bigg accepted the post of editor of the Doumahvre Protestant, an
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Irish journal, the property of W. Johnston, Esq., and whilst
fulfilling the duties of this office the young poet " took unto
himself a wife,'' in the person of Miss It. A, H. Pridham, a young
lady with whom he had been previously acquainted in Ulverston.
In 1858, and during his residence in the sister country, Mr. Bigg
published the novel entitled ''Alfred Stauntoa^' Considered as a
work of art, "Alfred Staunton" was a faflure — ^the plot, if it can be
said to contain one, was loosely constructed, and the work contained
by far too many metaphysico- philosophical speculations-— of which
Mr. Bigg was passionately fond— ^to lay any firm hold on the popidar
mind. Notwithstanding the learned disquisitions on the Ego and
Non-Ego — Being and Non-Being — "Alfred Staunton" is well
worth reading. The outer world of human life has presented many
scenes to our author, and we find them reproduced with fidelity in
this book. A garrulous barber of Ulverston, noted for the equal
ezpertness with which he wields the razor and his gibes and jests,
is the wit of the piece, and many are the humourous pranks he
plays. The following graphic sketch of a ride over-sands in the
old coaching days, occurs in the fii'st chapter, and the pleasure
we have no doubt our readers will experience in the perusal of
this description, must be our excuse for inserting so lengthy an
extract.
'Suddenly the din and tumult ceased. The coach righted, and rolled on
noiselessly. So sudden was the transition, so still the motion, that they might
have been travelling through fields of air, or not travelling at all, had not the
biting wind come whistling in through the window, to assure the travellers of
the fact of locomotion.
On through the spectral darkness they glided, until the little gentleman, still
for once, and completely puzzled, as well as somewhat overawed, asked once
more, '* Where are we ? very strange ! crossing one of your northern moors-*
heyr
"Nay, nay! this is na moor, nut it. Te're dean daft sure-Zy, to ex sic a
thing!"
"If it is not a moor, what is it, madam ?"
"S'ut t' window down, and TU tell ye."
Down went the window with a bang."
"Why, there t' sands to be seure !"
"Sands! What sands r
"Why, now, er ye a bom gommeral, to be exing that, and we crossing o'
them ? Why they're t' sands to be seure !" said the old lady indignantly.
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''What ? Is this—np, ^t caQ)\9t tei is 1^ J^orecaml)^ Bay r ask^ t^ ^f
gentleman, in a subdued tone.
"Eye 1 eye ! Morkim Bay ye offcomes pa' 't ; but we ca' 't sands.
The old gentleman was for a moment speechless with horror. "Why I
thought,'' siid he, at length, "that I was travelling by the Milnthorpe cotkht
which doM not come near the bay."
"Qitten into t' i^rang cooach mebbe ?"
"It seems so, indeed," said the litjble man, dolefully. **lt is dangerous
travelling Here, is it not ? he v r he added sWtly .
"Dangerous ? Eye" !' ^ye'f ye may say tfiat. Matty's the fine lad, and lass tu,
that I hae kenned sucked up by thore sands, or whemmeled down into t^ big
seea, that's rowling an' roaring yonxier, like a wild beast for its prey!"
" The sea r Is that the sea I heax out yonder to jfche Idt ?"
"Eye is'tl it ^ be galloping up here in less nor two hours frae this !"
The little gentleman groane^.
"Have there been any accidents on these sands lately T
"I believe ye I' It's hobbut a fortn't cum tomom, sen Bill Sykes— a chap
as bed cum and goAe owre here for 'forty year, amaist— was drown't like a rat-
ten in a bog. T^tide chm on him titter nor he expectit; poor body ! He wtm
a good man, was Bill, a good husban' and a good ladder, and baith wife and
barns heerd him skirlm' in t' darkness for help t'U aw was owre ; and nae mair
will they iver see o' Bill till the judgment day. He was wi-in a hondred yerds
o' yam, but yam he niver reeacbed." . •
In 1860, Mr. Bigg returned to TJlverston, to become once more
the editor of the Advertiser , and two years afberwards appeared his
|ast published work, '* Shifting Scenes and other Poems," a produc-
tion, in our opinion, of very unequal merit The beauties that it
contains, however, by far outweigh its defects, and the value of the
work is further increased by its presenting Mr. Bigg to us in a new
character — that of tjie delineator of little touches of home happiness
an4 also of home desolation. "Little Jane" and "Only a little
house" are exquisite idyls of the hearth, — the conclusion of the
former reminds us forcibly of Longfellow, and is quite equal to
anything the sweetest bard of America has yet written.
"The present rushes into the past,
Nothing on earth is doomed to last.
Summer has ended and winter is near.
Rain is steaming on moor and mere.
Bead leaves are on the blast.
The shutters are up in the empty room-
Nothing to break its hush of gloom ;
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Nothing but gusts of p^mS^W >^
Beating against the win^ow-j^Qjf,
Mingled wiUi ^ri/^e pf irled up /rom j^ie §^
And thoughts of that which used to be
And cannot bje, agfun."
On the last page of the volume is one gf Jfr. Bigg's happiest
efforts — a most pathetic little ^fldyl o{ the Heart/<^told in the
simple Doric of Fumess. We have read and re-read this poem,
and should not like to meet the man or ^oman in the whole of the
district, who could read it uDmoved.
LILE POLLY.
^'It's nobbut this time hut year, come tomom,
Sen me an' PoUy wolkt to U'ston fair,
Across t' green fields an' down t' lang sunny looao%
A good three mile an' mair.
We stopjft a parlUh bit tUy now avi then,
An* yet it mod a' been three yirdsy
Fw t* timeflang by at sic a reate,
Titter nor wings o' birds.
For sweet lile Polly was wi' n^e ;
But now my heart is sair,
For Fse see PoUy, bonny Polly,
Niver, niver mair !
rd often hid behint a dike,
Or ligged in an empty cart
An' t' sound o' her bonny voice wod ring
An^firkger about my heart,
I dam't tell her what I felt,
But leeakt an' leeakt an' niver stirr'd,
Though rd a geen my silver watch
Just for ya single word.
Oh ! sweet lile Polly ! Bonny Polly !
Oh ! my heart is sair ;
For Fse see Polly, gentle Polly,
Kiver, niver mair !
Afooore we gat to U'ston town,
I plukt up heart an' spak reet out ;
She leeakt at me— the sweet lile lass—
But what she answered matters nout.
Fse niver forgit the words she spak
Under that goolden sky ;
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A Ummer, bonny fitiry she^
An' a gurt clodhopper 1 1
But niver heed ; she loved me weell ;
That's a' I care to knaw ;
An' its gang wi' me, baith neet an' day,
Through sun, an' winter snaw.
Oh ! sweet lile Polly, bonny Polly,
Oh ! my heart is-sair ;
For Fse see Polly, gentle Polly,
Niver, niver mair !
Besides the works enumerated above, Mr. Bigg contributed
several valuable articles to many of our leading literary journals —
but our space now compels us to be brief. At the commencement
of the year 1865, Mr. Bigg was labouring under disease of the chest,
as is evidenced by the following extract from a note received by the
writer of this sketch : —
"Jan. 1, *65.
''My dear Sir, — I regret very much that the state of my chest
will not allow me the pleasure of accompanying you tomorrow.
''I hope on a future occasion to enjoy that pleasure.
"Yours, very truly,
'*J. Stakyak Bigg."
That "future occasion" never arrived — for the end was fiist
approaching, and on the 19th of May, 1865, John Stanyan Bigg
suddenly breathed his last ; and, to quote his own words, —
-"All the legacy he left behind
Was simple words. But they were rich as suns ;
And if you loved, and look'd on them, they gleamed
Like dewdrops with a moonbeam in their hearts.
And if you tried to crush them in your hand
They did not die ; or if they seem'd to die
'Twas only that they might reveal a soul
tio pure and lovely, that you welcomed it
With a heart-bounding joy, as saints do those
Whom they have handed to their thrones in heaven."
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^fippvi^tml !^tU%tfi.
KIRKBY IRELETH.
Ik this extensive parish are comprised the township of Kirkby
Ireleth, West Broughton, and Dunnerdale-with-Seathwaite, besides
Moss Houses and Waitham Hill, which are deemed extra-parochial.
Stretching from Duddon sands to the source of the Dnddon, under
Wrynose, a distance of about sixteen miles, it has an average
breadth of about three miles, the river forming its boundary oa the
north and west, while the parishes of Dalton and TJlverston encom-
pass it on the south and east. Its area is 27,257 a. Ir. 25 p. The
township of Kirkby Ireleth proper contains an area of 703a. Ir.
25p. j its present rateable value is as follows : — Kirkby, £9,088
West Broughton, £6,954 ; Dunnerdale-with-Seathwaite, £2,019
Angerton, £548. Population in 1801, 1041; in 1811, 1,079
in 1821, 1,343; in 1831, 1,521; in 1841, 1,809; in 1851, 1,748
in 1861, 1,666. This place is not mentioned in Domesday Book,
though in that survey we find in Ireleth (Gerleworde) two carucates
of land to be taxed, and in Woodlands (Chiluestreuic) three carucates.
The village contains evidences of high antiquity, which prove
that it has been a dwelling-place fi*om the earliest period of British
history. The termination, by, or 6^e, was, after the Danish inter-
mixture, used among the Saxons equally with ham, a residence,
dwelling, or village, but as there were different dialects in their
language, it is curious to observe how the former expression was in
more general use in the northern counties, and the latter in the
southern ; in fSatct it is the exception in the north to find names of
places ending in homy as it is in the south to have them terminating
in 5y. The following illustrative verse occurs in an old Oumber^
land ballad : —
"There's Harraby and Tarraby,
And Wigganby beseyd ;
There's Oughterby and Souterby.
And bys beath far and weyde."
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In ancient documents it is written cherchehi. On the moor above
High GhjU House, there is a large, well-defined circle, popularly-
known as a '^Druidical'' circle, p^smjiig twenty yards in circum-
ference, and formed of a bank of loose earth and stones. Tradition
relates that sundry large upright stones were removed from around
this mound, for building purposes, many years ago. It is also said,
that formerly the villagers repaired hither, in great numbers, to
witness the lathletic sports and games which were, conducted within
the ring. There can be no doubt about this being a sepulchral
circle of some tribe of our mysterious and far-distant ancestors, for
it is well known from the experience of many intelligent and en-
thusiastic antiquarians, that gravemounds of this description belcmg
to a very remote age. They have also been called low-barrows.'
Several of them exist at the present time upou the adjacent com-
mons of Gawtbwaite, Heathwaite, and Woodland, surrounded by
nupiberless cairns or conical heap of stones, marking the spots of
individual interments. These grave circles may presfent three
varieties : — circles with vallum only, with upright stones only,
or with both vallum and upright stones; the diversity of arrange-
ment probably arising partly througfi the nature of the ground and
partly through the taste of the people. Some writers, however, are
of opinion that each tribe had a different form of construction, and
that the gravemounds of females were distinct from those of males.
The body is sometimes found to have been buried entire, while,
perhaps in a majority of cases, it had been burnt, and the ashes
deposited in rude urns. When the body was interred without cre-
mation, it wq^ sometimes stretched at full length, and at others
dqubled up and laid on one side, or sometimes placed iu a sitting
position. The urns containing the burnt bones are sometimes put
in th^ir natui-al position, and sometimes inverted, with the mouth
downward^
Not &r from this grave circle, there is a large cairn or mound of
loose stones, heaped together in a pyramidal form, originally ninety
yards in circumference, but many of the stones have been removed
for building houses and fence walls, and yet there remain several
tons. This cairn has been partially worked, or, what is more likely
in clearing away the cobbles for the purposes above mentioned, the
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stoiii^ crheat, lying east and W(3st, formed by slabs of slate rock, witli
a floor of earth, vra» discovered, and an examinalioxl of this shewed
ofnly portions of calcined bone. As this interment occupied only*
6ne side of tlie mound, it is rieasonable to suppose that in so large
a heap, several 6thers* will be found, when further explored. Some
df the stone bantrwa on Woodland fell are oblong in shape; and
hare at eaeh ettifd a large upright stone, and these are called by the
country people "Giants* graves." Several of these were opened in
ihe year 1842, by the Rev. P. Evans, of Ulverston, who found
some calcined bones and charcoal, accompanied with fragments of a
stone ling. These cairns appear to answer to the description given
by ^orsaae, of the ship-barrows in Sweden and Norway, which are
found in the neighbourhood of the sea. By the term ship-barrow,
be says "is understood an oblong enclosure of stones running to a
point at the ends, which is filled with a heap of small stones mixed
with earth, while occasionally the space enclosed is quite level. At
each end is usually seen an upright stone, by which doubtless the
stem and stern of a ship are indicated In general they are to be
considered as burial places of the Yikings ; in single instances they
may have been erected in memory of some engagement at sea."
From the immense number of these cairns scattered over the
moors of Heathwaite, Gawthwaite, and Woodland, one might be
led to suppose that a series of sanguinary conflicts had taken place
between contending tribes, for most of the cairns are formed in
apparent haste, without that care and immense labour shewn in the
erection of some of them — evidently those of chieftains.
On a conspicuous part of Heathwaite Pell, there are the remains
of some kind of camp or settlement, which is marked in the
ordnance map, and called a *'site of supposed British settlement."
It consists of a series of stone walls, enclosing about 200 acres of
mooi*land, in the form of a parallelogram. The walls are very wide,
and built of stones without mortar. In the immediate vicinity of
the place, the cairns already alluded to abound, and it is possible
there may be some connection between them and these strange en-
closures. Within the walls are curious heaps of stones, some look-
ing like small limekilns, others as if they had been huts of a bee-
hive shape. A portion of the enclosed ground has been ploughed,
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but not "within tlie memory of anyone now living. The place
altogether has a very puzzling appearance, and offers a very inter-
esting field of research for the antiquary. No foundations of houses
or outbuildings can be discovered, and there exists no local tmdition
relating to the settlement^ which might afford a clue towards un-
ravelling the mystery. An extensive morass, close by, looks as if
it had been, at some distant time, a large moxmtain tarn. Is it
possible that this can be all that remains of the ancient Saxon
village of Silvesterwick (Woodland), recorded in the survey book
of William the Conquerer, and the stone graves around it, the
places where the inhabitants were interred as they ended their
earthly career *{ Near to Drigg, in Cumberland, are similar re-
mains, called ^^the city of Barnscar,'' but on a much larger scale,
the origin of which is lost in obscurity. About half a mile from
that part of Heath waite Fell where the so-called British settlement
is situated, there is a strange retired spot called "the Sepulchre."
The parish Church of Kirkby Ireleth, situated at Beckside, is a
very interesting structure, both on account of its age and its associ-
ations. It consists of nave, north aisle, chancel, and small square
tower, containing four bells. This tower was re-built and the
church repaired ia 1827. It is said, that the old tower fell down
some years before, and the larger of the two bells it contained was
removed to Dalton, because they had nowhere in Kirkby church to
suspend it. The other bell was placed in a small turret temporarily
erected, until the funds necessary for the rebuilding of the tower
were forthcoming. The "strange, eventful history" of this bell is
calculated to perplex the curious. It appears to have remained in
the churchyard, as a worthless object, for some time, none caring
to devote any attention to it, until at last it disappeared, and all
traces of its existence and connection with the old edifice were for-
gotten. In the year 1 851, when an exhibition of objects of interest
was opened in the town of Ulverston, for the purpose of luising
funds for the formation of the Athenaeum, among other relics and
curiosities belonging to the district, appeared an inscription in
antique characters, almost resembling Anglo-Saxon runes, purport-
ing to be copied from a bell in Kirkby Ireleth Church. The list
of exhibitors has been unfortunately lost^ and the name of the iudi-
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Tidual who forwarded thiB highly interesting and valuable contri-
bution is now unknown. All the information that can be gatliered
with reference to the bell is, that it is supposed to have been sent
to the works at Downham, in Suffolk, in part payment of the new
bells supplied from that foundry. The following is a facHumile of
the inscription, reduced to suit our pages : —
The inscription is very puzzling, but Mr. T. Wright, the eminent
antiquary, to whon^ it has been submitted, is of opinion that the
characters are merely fanciful forms of the Roman letters, and for
that reason are dijQicult to determina He takes the letter which
looks like K to be E, and acting upon this hint, the writer ia led
to assume the legend is meant to read hie seriate (ua) nierlehode pro
nobUy and to refer to the senate or elders of the lordship. It may
have been the the mote-bell, which was rung on the occasion of the
folk-mote, to summon the members thereof to the assembly, wheik
in ancient times the Saxon lord of Kirkby Ireleth (Gerlevorde),
communicated some command or piece of intelligence from the Earl
or head of the county, who corresponded to the Lord Lieutenant
of the present day. Taking into consideration the imperfect know-
ledge and irregular style of spelling of that time, it is not surprising
that Gerlevorde should be corrupted to Merlehode, particularly i£,
as was frequently the case, the bell had to be procured from the
continent. Supposing our conjectures to be correct, this relic of
antiquity would be about one thousand years old, and one of the
oldest in England.
The church exhibits, truly, as Mr. Jopling says, "the refined
tastes of the churchwardens of different ages ; who upon the Nor-
man and pointed styles, have super-imposed a multitudinous and
nondescript set of additions frx»m which our forefathers would have
shrunk with horror." The lover of ecclesiastical antiquities stands
aghast at the disgraceful want of harmony, the interior arrange-
ments belonging to the latest alterations being most absurdly con-
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spicuous. The building bears marks of great age, but from the
name of the village, and the fact of the edifice being dedicated to
St. Cuthbert, wlio was a Saxon bishop of Lindisfame, about A D.
6^70 tb 68^5, when Egfrid, son of Oswiu, who reigned over the
iS'brlliumbrians, conquered a part of this country, including Cart-
mel, which he annexed to the see of that bishop, we have every
reason to suppose that there has been a previous structure. The
walls are composed of the blue slate stone of the place, rough-cast
with lime, the windows, quoins, and doorways being of the red
permian sandstone. The south and principal entrance is a very
good specimen of the late-Norman style of doorway, which prevailed
from 1120 to 1170. A semicircular arch, ornamented with deep
moulding, and the lower border edged with well-defined beak-head
carving, is supported by four jambs, surmounted by capitals rudely
sculptured with scollops and floriated designs, and these also
sustain above, the plain square Norman abacus. The innermost
shafts of the janiba are cylindrical, but the outer ones are hexagonal,
and the moulded ends of the pillars rest upon cushioned bases. A
priest's side door, nearer the eastern end of the south wall, has been
btocked up. On this side also are pointed and trefoil headed win-
dows. The east end has been lighted with a Norman window of
considerable proportions, but it was lately filled up with masonry,
and modernised in the cai'penteresque style, by some one utterly
devoid of taste, or the slightest pretensions to architectural know-
ledge. The semicircular drip moulding of the original window
still remains, finished off on one side by a mutilated bust.
An aisle has been added on the north side, apparently by the
IcJrd of the manor, one of the Kirkbys, of Kirkby Hall, the windows
referring it to the time of Henry VIII. This was probably done
by Henry Kirkby, Esquire, who inherited the estate in that reign,
and married his cousin, Anne Kirkby, sister and heir of the last
Sir John, by which he united all the ancient estate of that family.
A small, round-headed Norman window, of one light, and the
head of a two-light early English window, contain small portions of
old painted glass. The windows of the tower and north-west side
of the building are fine examples of the carpentei^s, or "disappointed
gothio," as a facetious writer has termed it, which raged with
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trratehed eAck during the last oentiuy, and in the early part of the
prtsant en& The appearance of the interior is entirely spoiled by
the organ being pkced, with execraUe taste, in front of the chancel
window, pushing the communion table towards the nave, so that
the ckoir look down upon it On the north side of the east wall
ia an old painting, representing Moses the lawgiver, and on the
40uth side, as a eompaaion picture^ Aaron in the robes of high
pnestb In the ^'lord's chapd," or north aisle, there is the tomb of
William Kirkby, Esq., <^ Kirkby Hall, who died on the 22nd of
February, 1730, in the forty-first year of his age. The slab on
which the inscription appears, is of blue slate, and also bears the
arms of the Kirkbys, argent, two bars, and on a canton gules, a
cross moline or.
Immediately above this tomb, and resting upon it, is a raised
cross slab, executed in the new red sandstone. It was very likely
disturbed during the excavations necessary for the addition of this
part of the building, and may possibly be that of Alexander de
Kirkby, who in the second year of Henry III., (a.d. 1217,) con-
finned to the Abbot of Fumess the grant of Kirkby church and
forty acres of land This Alexander was a great bene&ctor to the
abbey, to which he also gave four oxgangjs of land in Kirkby, and
other lands near Dunnerholme; The sepulchral slab has sculptured
upon it a cross in low relief, the upper part of which upholds a
pair of hands clasped in the attitude of prayer, and, above them, a
head resting on a pillow is represented. The lower compai*tments
contain on the right, a sword, denoting a knight, and on the left,
the mutilated aims of the Kirkby femily. The first Roger de
Kirkby married, during the reign of King John, an heiress of the
house of Lancaster, barons of Kendal, and so in right of his wife
assumed the arms of her family, with the distinction of a cross
moline, instead of a lion passant gardant upon the canton. The
tombstone belongs to the early part of the thirteenth century.
The living of Kirkby was till very recently a peculiar, and is in
the patronage of the Dean and Chapter of York, who have presented
to the vicarage since the year 1376. It is worth about £120 a
year. The parish registers begin in 1607. The following is a list
of vicars : — Henry Waynscayfch,— j Jchn de Bretby, 1376; Kobert
c
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de Waghen, 1377; William de'Gilling, 1382; John Adamson,
1389; William de Barton, 1390; Robert Keswyk, U28;John
Fuyston, U34 ; William Langton, 1446; John Lese, 1453; Walter
Thornton, 1469 : William Gedney, 1466 ; Robert Ascough, 1497 ;
George Lucas, 1506; William Stavely, 1517; Robert Bossall,
1522 ; Christopher Bolton, 1533 ; Richard Dogeson, 1579; Thomas
Askew, 1606; Richard Broadley, 1661; John Parker, 1671;
Robert Thompson, 1676 ; James Muncaster, 1680 ; Thomas Holme,
1727 ; Stephen Sutton, 1738 ; Thomas Pearson, 1773 ; Charles R.
Graham, 1832.
(To be concluded in owr next,)
Hi^tu^.
REMONSTRANCE.
[OBIOINAL.]
(in the dialect of high FUBKEtS.)
By the Author of ** The Old Man.'\
Map'ment — Martha — map'ment !
Thow kna'sn't what thow says —
Thow fair torments my heart owt
Wi' thy lile contrairy ways —
Ifs oa' a heeap o' map'ment
Ut say, for this or that,
'At we sud put off thissan —
Thow toaks thow kna'sn't what !
We irm't rich, an' mayn't be ;
What than ! — ^wi* time an' care^
An' pu'in' weel togidder,
We may meeak our little meear.
We's niver, I s' up-hod us,
Be a'der clemm'd or cald
But spar' a ho'penny or two
Ut help us when we're &ld.
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Let'ii feeace it, Martha, feeace it^
Whativer cflms behint !
Qod niver sends a mowth wi'owt
A sOm'at ut put in't.
We s', happen, hev a mowth or two
TJt fill besides owr a'n,
What matter — thej s* be welcome
tJt share whativer's ga'n !
We 8* ola's hing togidder,
An' beeath du what we can —
A borden 's leeter shared by two,
Nor when ifs borne by yan.
But if we's plagae'd wi trabble,
(An' what life's tiabble-jfreef)
I s' try ut lig thy share tull mine.
An' kep it oa' frae thee.
An' if we're pooer, we s* sham' nin,
For rich fooak 's no'but fooak ;
An' wha can tell, we s' happen drS,
Slim' prize frae fortun's pooak.
But wroute-for brass g&'s farder
Nor owte 'at 's gi'en or ftlnd ;
An' sUm may be to t' fooer for t' bames
When we ga Onder f grund.
CtUn let's hev nea meear map'ment,
But gradely feeace owr chance,
I 's oflf ut put owr exin's in,
TJt git it deeun at yanoe.
Ctlm ! gi' 's a kiss o' t' heead on 't,
An* mak na meear ut du ;
My hand 's here, wi' my heart in 't,
Tak' beeath — ^thou s* niver rue !
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VOLUNTEERING SIXTY-THREE YEARS AGO.
(From the Notes of two Octogenarians. J
In the year 1803, a rumour having reached England that 200,000
men were encamped in and around Boulogne, under the command
of Napoleon Bonaparte, and that a large flotilla of flat-bottomed
boats was lying in the harbour awaiting a £ftvourable opportunity
for a descent upon the shores of ''perfidious Albion," the spirits of
our fathers were aroused^ and the old martial {iseling burst into a
flame in the breasts of young and old, rich and poor. The call for
volunteera to defend their hearths and homes in Fumess was en-
thusiastically responded to, and a day was appointed for the *' young
men from the country" to meet the townspeople, the magistracy,
and other local magnates in tllverston. A large number being
assembled in the market-place. Captain Morritt stood up on the
old fish-stones, and after addressing a few words of encouragement
to the young men, said : "I, John Bacon Sawrey Morritt^ do faith-
fully promise and swear that I will be true to his Majesty King
Greorge the third." Daniel Dickinson, Esq., solicitor, followed in
like manner, and then a rush took place of men, ''free, able, and
willing** to fight for the dear old land :
" The fiery valour at. white heat
Was flashiDg in their Uce&f
and in an incredibly short time upwards of three hundred were
enrolled. A battalion being formed, the following gentlemen were
placed in command : T. Sunderland, Esq., of Little Croft (now
Lightbum House), colonel; J. R S. !Morritt^ Esq., major ; R. Shaw,
Esq., adjutant. The Qien were then fprmed into four companies,
of which the following, were the captains — 1st Daniel Dickinson,
2nd, Joseph Yarker, 3rd, — Wilkinson, 4th, Myles Theodore
Burton. Drilling in squads took place every night in fields around
the town ; the instructors being two old shoemakers who had for-
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merly been in tbe regular army, and were known respectively as
"Big Scotch Jimmy" and "Scotch Bobby." After a considerable
degree of proficiency had been attained in squad exercise, company
drills and inspections were performed twice a week, each company
having its own parade ground. The first company assembled in
King Street, opposite what is now Mr. "Warhurst's shop, the second
met at the bottom of Cavendish Street, the third at the top of thd
same street, where the Temperance Hall now stands, and the fourth
met in tbe Market Place. "When company inspection was over,
they all mustered in King Sti*eet, and thence proceeded to Little
Croft Park for battalion drill. Considerable progress having been
made in military evolutions, a grand field day was held every Sunday,
in front of the colonel's house, and these gatherings were attended
with such ecldt that on one occasion whilst the &ther and his
gallant volunteers were the "observed of all observers," his son, the
Rev. J. Sunderland, as minister of the parish church, preached to
two old women cmd the clerky and on another occasion but one old
woman having attended, service was not performed. As the inva-
sion panic grew stronger, our volunteers were called up twice for
permanent duty, the first occasion being at Cartmel, and as our
motto had been for years Semper paratvs, the men were not allowed
to cross the sands, for fear their firelocks might become rusty, but
were marched round by Bigland Pell. During their stay at Cart-
mel, a grand review was held, and was attended by all the ilUe of
the district After the review, the men were served with refresh-
ments so liberally, that to use the words of one of our octogenarians,
"Veid pies wor as common as peits." On the next occasion, our
grandfathers were called to Lancaster; and, agiain not being allowed
to cross the sands, they marched to Kendal, where they remained
idl night, and proceeded to Lancaster next morning. On their
way to Kendal, having to go out of Lancashire into Westmorland,
each man as he crossed the bridge which connects the two^ re-
ceived a guinea, a sum of money allowed by government to
every volunteer who left his own county on duly. As the
panic reached its height, and the fear of the French landing
at Piel grew stronger, a call was made upon the formers of the
district to provide for a more rapid transit of the men and munitiianft
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of war. For this purpose a number of light timber waggons and
carts were £itted-up with seats, and on a])pointed days, each being
provided with a driver, mustered in XJlverston, and the volunteers
mounting their respective vehicles, were driven, at double quick
time down to Bardsea, and over Birkrigg to TJrswick, &c, as if to
meet the enemy. These waggons and carts were intended to fill
two important offices : the first being the speedy conveyance of
the volunteers to any point selected by the French for a landing,
and when this was accomplished, the second part of the programme
had to be enacted, on their return to TJlverston, namdy, the rapid
transportation of the women and children into the mountains and
fells of Fumess, as soon as they were furnished with a fresh
relay of horses. Such was volunteering sixty years ago. We
leave it to our readers to contrast the "good old times" with the
present age of steam, and, in conclusion, we may state that all that
now remain of the gallant volunteers of 1803 (so far as we can
learn) are three old men, and the two banners presented to the
battalion by Miss Sunderland, and which, until recently, gra<^ the
east end of our parish church. tempora miUanttir I
**Mkdj precious rites
And customs of our rural auoestiy
Are gone, or stealing from us."
RUM-BUTTER AT CHRISTENINGS.
The custom of providing rum-butter at christenings has generally
been supposed to belong to the neighbouring county, at least most
people seem to agree hereabouts that it is a "Cummerlan' feushion,"
and very probably it will retain that distinction as long as the
equally proverbial "Yorkshire pudding^' is identified with the great
northern province. This celebrated compound is not absolutely
confined to the baptismal period, but usually makes its appearance
at the same time as the "little stranger/' having been provided long
before the interesting event
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ChristeniDgs in all ages hare been considered as great festivalsi
bat bhe feasting and merry-making in these parts hare not always
been restricted to this particular day. The advent of a little
^^responsibility/' or as some people unfeelingly stigmatise it^ an
*' encumbrance," is far too great and important an occasion to be
lost sight ofy or dismissed with one solitary instance of conviyial
entertainment The arrival of the young hopeful was, in former
times, duly celebrated by a series of "hakes" of a highly amusing
and jovial character. In these degenerate days, however, such
gatherings are decreasing in importance, for, as the country is
becoming more thickly peopled, there is less lack of amusement,
and instead of the whole country-side frequenting the house of the
happy couple, who have received a little "pledge" of affection, as
in days of yore, the joyous occasion is now conducted by the
immediate friends or neighbours. In the more remote parts of the
district, and particularly among the fells, the customs peculiar to
these particular times are still practised with scrupulous exactness,
even as they were observed in the olden time. The first scene in
the act of course commences with the introduction of the helpless
little innocent into this wicked world, afterwards represented as the
^<in&nt^ mewling, and pewking in the nurse's arms." A "lying-in"
was always considered a serious business, and the multitude of
preparations necessary for the forthcoming event, gave additional
consequence and weight to the responsibility of the proceeding.
The good services of the neighbouring "wives" were retained, or
at anyrate two or three were selected out of the numerous offers to
att«»i at a moment's notice, day or night, when required, and all
-were k^t for a while in a most delightful state of uncertainty and
expectancy.
Previous to the time, a quantity of rum-butter was made and
set aside, for that formed a considerable element in the affair, and
an item in the programme of unquestionable significance, inasmuch
as it was believed ^'amang f fells," that a lying-in woman would
never recover unless she had plenty of rum-butter.
This remarkable and time-honoured compound was thus prepared.
The butter was first melted (not boiled) in a brass pan, till the
milk i-an to the top, and the salt sank to the bottom. The floating
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ingredients were then skimmed off, and the butter poured off clear
from the salt and sediment A quantity of rum and sugar having
been well beat^i together in a bowl, with a little grated nutmeig,
was then mixed with the butter, when all was gradually and care-
fully stirred, as the mixture cooled down, and until it was beginning
to set Prepared in this manner, it would keep for a veiy long
period, so that few houses were without a pot of rum-butter at the
appointed time. The females who had promised their good servioee
having been .**laited," they immediately, on their arrival, bustled
about, and worked with great assiduity, and unwearied attention,
to perform all the kind offices needful on such occasions, one
devoting her energies to the invalid, another to the miniature ward-
robe, and a third to the tea table.
Immediately after the chiM was bom, its head wad washed all
over with rum. From this arose the custom called ' Veshin t' barn's
heead,'' kept up in the present day, which means that the lucky
^'parienf' is expected to invite every one of his friends to drink the
health of the youngster in something stronger than water or tea,
whenever and wherever he mi^t chance to meet with them.
Before the women departed, they sat down to tea, whatever time
of day or night it might be. Many a joke and many a good * 'otMk."
they enjoyed over the friendly ^'cup that cheers but not inebriates^''
until every subject of conversation was exhausted, and they were
satiated with the good things before them, when, after '^siding"
everything away, they once more congratulated the good woman
most concerned in the stir, and, after many hearty wishes, took
their leave.
As soon as the mother was sufficiently recover^ to sit up^ and
bear the fatigue of seeing her friends, she was expected, according
to immemorial usage, to invite her female friends and neighbours
to a second tea-party, called the <* wiving," when'they all attended,
very considerately with presents, such as bread, butter, sugar, wine,
or anything deemed necessary at such a time, and they sat down to
a comfortable cup of tea, the rum-butter of course figuring conspi-
cuously among the rest of the thii^ on the tea-table^ very frequently
appearing in a large old-fashioned valuable china bowl, which had
been in the family for generatiims. The hurry and bustle of pre*
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patation whicb iM& extraordinary demonstration caused, can scaroelj
b6 appi'ediated now-a-days. The kitchen utensils were polished to
a degree of dazzling bright&ess, the smoky walls and ceiling wer6
trhiie#a^ed, unless the latter happened to be of black oak, the
blue flags of the floor were well washed and rubbed with stone, or
(ihiatnenied with arabesque work, in conflicting patterns, and the
did atid mi!ich*priKed oak furniture was subjected to an alarming
ftMoitnt of friction, applied so energetically to produce the requisite
sUj^erlative gloss, that serious thoughts arose as to the possibility
6f combustion. That indispensable piece of furniture in every farm
house, the long oaken table, with its nicely carved feet and frames,
was brought into the middle of the floor, with the grand old tea
tray set out ; and arranged upon it with much display, was the
flnely-pencilled, transparent, and sonorous china of antiquated
pattern, the pride of the homestead, and the envy of half the
country, flanked and supported by the black coffee pot, the silver lus-
tre tea pot, and the glass cream jug and sugar basin now in common
usa A great deal of etiquette was observed on these occasions.
It was a great insult if one within the '4aitmg^' was forgotten in
the general invitation. It was also a grievous sligbt, if one of
them was cfot invited before the child was born. Everything being
i^ecUly, the "wives," as they were emphatically termed, began to
assemble, attired in their b^t, or, as they would themselves express
itf dressed in their "betteimer cleaas," and rustic compliments were
|k>ured in thickly upon the lying-in hostess. One eager neighbour
would say, " Whf/y wat^ I hwope ya mend nicely^ Betty. Wat howst
torn?" Another, lost in admiration of the baby would exclaim,
**Wai, if 8 quUe a throddy; cm as like it fadther as oiot cam, he" and
then alternately between mother and child, they all severally remark
— " Wat, yer middlin gaily ? Fse reet fain et see ya leeak sae wed.
Oh I its a hoTmy ham; an its fadther's varra een." — ^'Wy, yer
ledk&m to H hoA^ston dgain; y^ll due I helieve, am, f ha/nrCs a reet fme
an, an it fadther nooaz tiU a tee." — " J'y, rrmrry" says an ancient
dame, "t« fadther' s Usell. An yer gaUy stout is ya? ye^U git on
graddy weel, ye'U see now, ah* II awamd ya." These and similar
encouraging remarks were passed by the assembled company, afld
acknowledged by the fond mother, who was in a whirl of excitement^
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and fall of the dignity of her position as matron and hostess.
Tea-time being no longer delayed Uian could be avoided, the yisitors
disposed themselves at the table, and did ample justice to the good
things awaiting their appetites, each one not forgetting to taste the
rum-butter.
The ^^Christening" was a more formal afiair, and taxed the
energies of the housewife to the utmost. In general, all the Mends
and relations were invited, as well as the sponsors, and often the
clergyman and the clerk joined the party on these occasions. The
evening was spent in drinking and merry-making, and thus were
the festivities in honour of the unconscious innocent concluded.
#n»jSi fv0m mv IC^oal ^hU.
AN EPIC POEM IN FOUR LINES.
^'But chief, thou nurse of the didactic muse,
Diyine Nonsensia ! all thy soul infuse.''— Cankhto.
The epic poem we are about to introduce to our readers is a
marveUous illustration of that power of condensation only found in
minds of the largest calibre. There are some men whose style of
writing is of that finely attenuated character, that to hunt for an
idea in their puffed-out pages, is, to use a north country phrase,
'*like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay." Tennyson, the
poet-laureate, for instance, has written a poem called "Enoch
Arden," in which the few incidents are so drawn out, that a con-
siderable time is consumed in the reading, and in order to remedy
this, a poet in the far-oflp "El Dorado," California, agreeing with
the ^a/rs langa" of Dr. Butts, in the Ingoldsby Legends^ jet
aware of the significance of the "vUa brevisy* of that would-be
classical gentleman's limited Latin, boiled it down to as
many lines as the poem contained hundreds. It is a trite saying
of the poet> that,
"Full many a flower is bom to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.''
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And such, we are afraid, would haye been the lot of the poem we
are about to quote had not accident thrown it in our way. The
author has never been noticed in the pages of our critical metropo-
litan journals, so it has been left to our humble selves to introduce
to the reading world of Lonsdale North of the Sands, an epic of
surpassing beauty and brevity. Not to keep our readers longer in
suspense, we may state that the poem is entitled *^The Deluge,''
and its author is Mr. Qeorge Pearson, of Low Wood. With the
intuition of a great mind, Mr. Pearson plunges at once in medioi
r€8 — into his subject. We have no drcumJocution, no beating
about the bush. Like the new star which has but recently arisen
in the world of art — Mons. Dorl — our author, with one stroke of
his pen, gives us a sublime word painting of that vast convulsion
of nature, when — ^to use the words of a* well-known amateur
preacher — "the whole world was destroyed to the astonishment of
the surrounding nations.'' Not to break the continuity of the poem,
we will, in the first place, give it entire, and afterwards consider
each line — ^which is a picture in itself — separately. This, then,
without further preface, is the poem : —
''When all the hills were covered.
And eveiything was dead,
Noah and his fiftmily
Were fast asleep in bed."
Clearly in the above lines may be seen the hand of a master :
every word almost is pregnant with a thought ; and every line in
its sequency is suggestive — of a vast desolation — the death throes
of a world — a happy fiamily — and a perfect picture of peace. Take
the first line :
''When all the hills were covered.''
What a picture we have here of that illimitable waste of waters,
unbroken by the crest of the loftiest hills — a sea without a shore —
Coniston Old Man, Skiddaw, Helvellyn, nay, Scawfell Pikes them-
selves, all! all! swallowed up in the insatiable maw of the "vasty
deep." "Ajigels," as Byron said, "shall tire their wings, but fijid
no spot, not even a rock, from out the liquid grave."
"When all the hills were covered,
And every thing was dead."
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How beautifully does the second Hue dovetail to the first, and
with what rapidity has the climax been reached. The fountains
of the great deep have been broken open, and the world has become
s charhel house :
"A nd every thing was dead."
The mighty giants, "for there were giants in those days," are now
"floating about like huge leviathans, and all the joyous life On our
green young earth is quenched in everlasting night. Death reigns
supreme r The youthful maiden and the hoary sage now "sleep
the sleep idiat khows no waking," with the solitary exception of
"Noah and his family."
Here, for tte first time, we are introduced by the poet to the
aged Noah and his family, and, "as imagination bodies forth the
forms of things unknown," we picture to ourselves the long, flowing
locks and snow-white beard of the venerable patriarch, standing out
in bold relief from the raven locks of his three stalwart sons and
their fair-haired wives, the destined replenishes of a desolated
world. We see the colossal ark, with its heaven-preserved freight,
drilling about on that unfathomable sea, ''as idle as a painted ship
upon a painted ocean f and the calm soHtitde of the scene is a relief
to the mind from the painful effects of the "moving accidents by
flood and field," described in the first and second lines. The last
line is still more soothing —
" Were faet asleep in bed."
Sleep I halmy sleep — as the poet calls it— what pictures of calm
repose the word calls forth. Alone in the world, the happy, God-
preserved family sleep in peace. No eye save One to mark their
slumbers. Well might Coleridge exclaim- -
"Oh, sleep, it is a blest^ed thing
Beloved from pole to pole.''
For here amidst the wreck of a world, "time's step is all Unheard/
the weary ante-diluvians calmly sleep.
Longinus, in his masterly treatise, tells us that "the sublime,
when seasonably addressed with the rapid force of fightniiig, has
borne all before it, and shewn at one stroke the compacted might of
genius." Such being the case, see how our author has fulfilled the
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conditions affecting the aablimity of hi« work. Ajs Minerva leaped
forth from her fathei^s brain — ^fnUrgrown, and armed with her
SBgis — so do the words of our author flash, with ap. electric thrill, as
from an overcharged Leyden jar, and our pulses throb and bound
with their weird-like influence. Hypercritics may urge that one
element) at leasts of modem epic poetry is wanting, in the absence
of high sounding words ; but to this we wquld respectfully reply,
that in the simplicity of our author dwells his strength. To our
hearts the thrilling epic of Chevy Chase is dearer by far than the
lofty sounds of Paradise Lost. No greater contrast could possibly
be found than in the Saxon English of the one, and the stilted
Latinized speech of the other. We are warned, however, by our
opening remarks to be brief, and must yield to the dictum so often
laid down, that "brevity is the soul of wit." It is our intention,
however, in some future numbers, to again call the attention of our
readers to a few more unset gems, from our local po^ts, which
have been
"Like orient pearls at random strung."
The Ferns of the ENox.iaH Lake Country. -% W. J. Zmto<r^
The gjreatly increasing popular adpiiration of Ferns, the great
numbers who now admire these ^ceful and elegant flowerleofj
plaints, and the rapid progress tha^t Pijerodology has made w;ithin
the IjBist few; years, have, stimulated those who admire beauty of forijx.
to collect and cultival^e th^m. Notwithstanding w:ha,t has been. said,
by those who are slow to perceive beauty apart from gaudy colour-
ing, few plants present more exquisite elegance than these, and,
produced, as they are, from spores so minute as to be almoat invi-
sible^ they speak most emphatically of the impress of Almighty and.
Cr^tive, pow;er.
"Though we boast no lovely bloom,
That can rival With the flowers ;
Though we fling no sweet perfume ;
Though no varied hue i^ ours—
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Yet bath nature firanied our race,
In a mould so light and ftur»
That a beauty and a grace
Shed we round us everywhere.''
We are glad to see a work on the Ferns of this disrtriet, for,
although the number of British species is only about fifty, their
varieties are considerable, and number upwards of 1,000. Of one
species aJone, ih.e ScolopeTidrium irulgare, there sure more than eighty
named variations from the normal type. Of this protean species
Low Fumess is the prolific habitat of many forms, although Mr.
Linton has almost overlook^ this part of the lake district. Col-
lectors, however, have not been wanting in our neighbourhood, and
some twenty years ago, Mr. Hadwen, of TJlverston, we believe,
found the first specimen of Scohpendrium, var. Bi-margincUiMn,
on an old wall near Aldingham, and five years afterwards he gave
a specimen to a fern dealer at Bowness, who, we are informed, sold,
it to a gentleman in London, as a new found variety. Since then
Mr., Mrs., and the Misses Hodgson, Mr. B. Waites, and others,
have collected strange deviations; but it appears that the largest and
most curious collection of Ferns has been made during the last two
years, by Mr. Salt, of TJlverston, whose perseverance has enabled
him to find many new varieties ; amongst which Mr. Moore, one of
the best authorities on Ferns, has named and described the follow-
ing : — Polypodiwnh var. SaUii, Scolopendrium var. Gyratum, S. var.
SaJiii — ItUeseenSy Sc. ' Several novelties have also been found
by the same gentleman, as well as new localities for well known but
rare forms, amongst which we may mention a beautiful specimen
of Polystichvm var. midtijidum (also found by Mr. Waites and by
Mr. Bradbum of Barrow), Scohpend/riv/ni var. criapumy cristatum^
acaHpturatum^ suprcdinecUv/m, mtdtifidv/my ina/rginatwm, ahruptum^
and many otiiers.
We should have been glad if Mr. Linton had given us some
information about the statement that Trichomanes radicans had
been found in a cave at Ambleside. We saw, last summer, at a
fern dealer^s, in Bowness, a specimen, which was said to have been
found there ; but we are told that Trichomanes had been planted
at that place by some focetious person or other — if so, such tricks
are highly discreditable to the parties and ought to be exposed.
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VARIETIES.
. "From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
A Rowland fob an Oliyer. — A touristy roaming oyer the
mountains one day, met with a native, and thinking to have some
fine sport at the man's expense, said, " Well, my good man, is there
much Icmd about here?" "Ah doo-at kna,'' answered the man,
"but there's a deeal o*/ell."
Seathwaitb. — The wild is the prevailing characteristic of Seath-
waite scenery ; and, at the same time, it is invested with an air of
quietness and repose which prevents its wildness approaching the
savage or terrible, though many distinct parts of it, as well as its
g^ieral aspect, are fully entitled to the epithet of sublime. Words-
worth, the "laurel-honouring Laureate," says, respecting this portion
of Duddon vale, — "The chaotic aspect of the scene is well marked
by the expression of a stranger, who strolled out> while dinner was
preparing, and, on his return, being asked by his host, "What way
he had been wandering?" replied, "As far as it h&finishadV^
TJbswick Tarn versus the Lake op Como. — ^It is ever gratifying
to find the love of one's own country deeply implanted in the-
breast of any individual, and the powerful hold which eaily im-
pressions gain upon the mind of the true patriot^ irresistibly clinging
to his heart-strings in whatever clime his fortunes may lead him.
Such men are made of the true metal, that bears a higher stamp
than mere sounding brass or tinkling cymbal, and it always gtvcB
us pleasure to record their observations and reflections when bearing
upon the subject just maitioned. Ck>mparisoinB are said to be odious,
but no unsophisticated intellect will deny the force of a free and
unbiassed opinion, founded upon careful observation, between the
similarity of certain objects, at home and abroad, as occurred in
the following instance. A native of Eumess chanced to be employed
for some months in the neighbourhood of the lovely lake of Como,
celebrated in drama and song, and on his return to the land of his
birth, he was questioned by the wondering rustics with regard to the
scenes he had witnessed in the course of his travels and residence
abroad. Our hero, among other things, having alluded to the lake
of Como, was asked, "Wat mak on a spot" it was ; to which he
replied, "Wy, ah've heeard a deeal o' foine toke abaat t' pleace, but
ah reckon nowt on't Te tell t' trewth, ah set nowt be 't, for it's
varra lyle bigger nor Ossick tarn, an' net hofe as nice." How
happy and contented is a mind that reposes on its own proper
wisdom ! it is greatly to be valued, and deserves all praisa It
reminds us of a very pretty- and expressive Hindoo proverb: "The
snail looks out of its little shell, and fancies it the grandest palace
in the world."
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MONTHLY SUMM4RY OF LOCAL EVENTS.
CoKiBTOK LAK|L-The Steam. "Gondola" 5^" ^^^ ?lWK upon thfa W
tiful lake since the Ist ult. ItreacEesthe foot of the lake a little after twelve,
and leaves for the last time a little after three p.m. ^ ^, ^ „,
Ulvbbbtoic SirNDAT School Tbaohbbb' Tbip.— The Rev. Ovaon Gmll3rm,
on the Ut ult, gave the Sunday school teachers their annual tn^ K«»riy
fifty persons, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. GwiUym, wew wnveyed to Bow-
ness, where they partook of dinner, and then proceeded to Ambleaidflj
returnmg to Bowness to tea. The party were delighted with the tnp.
Launch of a Plbabubb Stbambb.— On the 6th ult., a new steams,
built for the Windermere United Steam-Yacht Company (limited), by the
Lune Shipbuilding Company, was launched at NewbyBndge. MisaCiewd^
Bon, daughter of G. B. drewdson, Esq., of the Wood, Windermeie, gerformmj
the cer^ony of christening the vessel, which wm c^ed the ^'Eothay.^
The steamer is 105 feet long, with 16 feet beam. Sbe hw a first and second
cabin, each about 16 feet long. After the launch, about «ty of the pwprw-
tors and friends sat down to an excellent hmcheon, at the Swan Hot^ the
chair being, occupied by J. Whitwell, Em. ' ^ ^^ . . ,,
Yeomanry Cavalry.— The annual shootang of the membep of the
Yeomanry Cavalry, for the bronze mediJ. and abo to ^de who should
renresent the troop for the competition for the aM medal at J^iwaster,
ffplSce on Outrik^ on the ^ifk ^th the ^^^fi^^^^!^\
bank, 9 pointe; J. Foxcroft, 7; G. J. Lawrence, 6 ; G. Shephwd, 5 ; J.
Soson, 6. They afterwards adjourned to the Queen's Hotel, for dmner.
-KiRKHEAD BoNB CAVB.-A paper, by Mr. J. P Morn% on some recent
exi^oraiions at the Kiikhead cavern, was read before the Apthr^logwal"
S^etv of London, on the 6th ult. An animated discussioft fbltowed.
^IeFaTof Rain IN Ulverston during May wasmin. Theheavifsfe
faU in 24 hours was 0.75 in. on the 10th. There w<ere 11 days oa which /OJlifl,,
^^SmON^OF ASSWTAJffT OVBRSBBB FOB ©AMX)K.--an the 121^ ult;, Bfe.
F dark, master of the National Sochol, Ulverston, was elected aaawtairfi
overseer for Palton by a large majority of the ratepayers.
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Books REOBivEP.-We have received the foUowingj^orkB, but want of: space
compds us to defer our notice until next raonlhir-"^^^^
Craven and their Ancient Inhabitants, by H.B. Smith, Em.«---« Hawks-
head Town, Church, and School, by A, Graig Gibwn, Ksq., F?S: A.^
TheNorth Lonsdale Maoazwtb may be obtomed of the Agents anABoA-
sdlers in the district, but should any subscnber preferit, or ei^enwoe^py
^fficulty or delay in receiving the work, he may ensure punctual dehveiy
by having it ported regularly from the office.
11 communications which do not bear the real name and address of the wnter
wiU not be noticed— this is insisted upon— not so much for pubhcation
unless desired, but as a satisfactory guarantee. ^. ^^ ^ . _ . ^,
Wa shall be haoDV to receive information respectmg the past histpiy, of the
distn^t, old customs, remarkable facts, old local ballads, epit^hs, or any-
tMng tearing upon the plan of our work, whether quamt, amusmg,
AlT^^tri^utions S^ wrticles for insertion shouM be witten upon one 4de
on^; printers object to *^ copy" written upon bDth sides of the paper.
The ^itoT cann ot pledge himself to return rejected manuscnpt.
Printed at the ''Advertiser'' Office, The GUI, Ulvmtgn.
All
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THE
nmUh ^KJ^mm,
AND LAKE DISTBIOT MBGELLANT.
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MORRIS, F.A.S.L.
No. 2. AUGUST, 1866. Vol. I.
A CLASSICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL NOVEL.
By the Eevd. Henry Noel-Feam, M.A.; F,BJS.
A New Novel is to a large class of readers a most delightful
thing. They have nothing else to do but to read it — a day's work
is an orthodox three volume romance, which having been once got
through is forthwith consigned to the limbo of forgetfulness, and
thought on no more. There is a tale told of an American lady,
who talking with a friend from the Old Country asked if there
were anything new in the way of novels. — *' Have you read Now
wad Them, ? " enquired the visitor. — " Yes,'' replied the lady, " of
course I have. I read all the novels that come in my way." —
" Have you read Ten Thomand a rear/"— "No," replied the fair
transatlantic, a little staggered by the literary digestion implied in
such a question, " I have read some hundreds, but I certainly
never read ten thousand a year ! "
It seems difficult to understand with all the prodigious produc-
tiveness of the modem pen how the supply of new novels can keep
pace with the demand. Old men and maidens, young men, and
may we not say children, are at work constantly in their manu-
facture, wives and widows are not wanting. And the qualities
are as various as the quantities are gi'eat : — some Grandisonian
ladies and gentlemen who mount on stilts of or-molu to write at
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a desk ten feet above the grounds-others, who eschewing even
their ordinary apparel concoct their romances in dressing gown
and slippers — some rigidly righteous and virtuous even to gall and
wormwood, others amiably inconsistent, and a third class elegantly
dissipated, with their morality down at heels and out at elbow&
Indeed it is said that we have authors who aspire to be what the
French call decotbatts—we hope not, it is a bad ambition and the
style is one in which no English writer will ever gain celebrity.
However this may be, we have readers for all novel writers, and
the cry is still for more. It is true that stupid novels don't pay —
they never did, but only let a romance of even moderate ability
make its appearance, and then ask the library-keepers how much
time it spends on the shelves, and we praise a book now because it
depicts the world as it is — shows us how Lady Mary takes tea, and
how Lord Ma^rmaduke makes up his book for the Derby. How
Mrs. Fox Pause mistakes Captain Stunner for the quiet Mr.
Humdrum Pause— ^nd what mischief comes of the mistake — and
makes known to us • a variety of matters only supposed to be
revealed to the exclusives who stand behind the silver veil, and
have their names embalmed and immortalized in the columns of
the Morning Post,
May not some interest attach to a novel which demonsti'ates
that the Greeks and Romans were neither wiser nor more virtuous
than we are:— which may depict fashionable life as it was exhibited
when Christianity was scarcely more than a centuiy old, and which,
in addition to these piquant revelations, may make known to us
something about the philosophy and superstitions of the time.
Such a book we propose to bring before our readers, believing
that to many of them it will be new.
The Metamorphoses of Apuleius, a genuine romance, written in
the early part of the second century, has hitherto tidied to meet -
with so many readers as the character of the work deserves.
Several causes have combined to bring about this result By the
classical student, Apuleius never has been, and never will be much
read. Bom of a Greek family at Madaura, a Eoman colony in
Africa, he studied first at Carthage, then at Athens, and afterwards
at Eome, where he acquired the Latin tongue without the help of
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a master. All his works now extant were written in this language ;
and as might reasonably be expected, are scarcely fitted therefore
to hold a place among those of classic writers. Bat there are
other and more serious obstacles in the way of the Metamorphoses
becoming popular. It is true that the author was a Platonic Phi-
losopher, and that his book is written throughout in a highly moral
tone, and with a moral end in view ; but we must recollect that
the work made its appearance nearly seventeen centuries ago, and
its pages are constantly defiled with passages such as the present
state of civilization and morality cannot tolerate.
Then, too, the harshness and abruptness of the style, the quick
transition from one subject to another, and the brevity and there-
fore oftentimes the difficulty of the expressions, which not unfre-
quently require the reader to bestow, in order to the proper under-
standing of the passage, more labour and ti^e than he feels
inclined to give, greatly tend to shelve an author who is for many
reasons well worthy of a perusal.
Sir , George Head, in his edition of 1851, well points out the
value of '' The Golden Asa with regard to the graphic and charac-
teristic description it contains of the habits, manners, and customs,
prevailing at the time among the people in the Provinces subject
to the Boman Empire." Under the form of a personal narrative,
interspersed with episodes, are collected interesting, instructive,
and amusing sketches relating to popular superstitions, religious
ceremonies, social entertainments, proceedings of courts of law,
dramatic spectacles of the amphitheatre, hordes of robbers, <&c.,
dx!., &a ; while to complete the picture, and to leave nothing
untouched, the hero terminates his course by being enrolled among
the priests of Isis, and an account of the religious rites and cere-
monies used at the worship of that Goddess forms the conclusion
of the work.
The authorship of The Golden Asa has been with some a matter
of dispute, there is a story in Greek by the celebrated Lucian,
which is unquestionably identical with the Metamorphoses of
Apuleius in the main features — ^with the exception of the name of
the hero, Lucius, which is the same in both — the names of the
I^aces and people are different. Which to^ the tale from the
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other, or whether, as others have imagined, they both derived it
from a common source, is, after all, of no great consequence ; but
the versions of Apuleius as &r excels that of Lucian in the style
of composition, as it exceeds it in length, and contains moreover,
matter which indisputably belongs to him alone, such as the
mysteries of Isis, and the no less celebrated than beautiful tale of
Cupid cmd Psychs ; with numerous additions and embellishments
in the body of the book.
We may, we think, with great probability assume that Apuleius
under the name of Lucius intends to represent himsel£ He makes
his hero, for instance, a native of Madaura (now Tripoli), his own
birth-place. Again, he brings him before a court on the charge of
murder ; and the circumstances of the trial and the description of
the proceedings of the court, and in fact, of the whole affair, will
put the reader of Apuleius' speech Z>e Magia^ strongly in mind of
the trial for witchcraft at Sabrata, on which occasion our author
had to defend himself against a charge of having used magical arts
in order to win the affections of a rich old woman who had fallen
in love with him and married him, but whose sons by a former
husband could not bear the idea of a stranger coming into any
share of their expected fortune.
But now let us proceed to lay before the reader a brief digest
of the work itself.
The naiTator of the story, whose name is Lucius, begins by
stating that on his mother's side he was descended from the cele-
brated Plutarch and that he was of Thessalian origin, and that in
a business journey one day into Thessaly he joined two travellers
with whom he entered into conversation, one of whom had just
been relating the wondrous doings of a magician which the other
discredited. Lucius in his turn then recounts the feats of a juggler
whose performance he had not long before witnessed at Athens,
and invites the first traveller, whose name was Aristomenes, to
repeat his tale. This he accordingly does, prefacing it with a
solemn asservation of its truth, and taking the divinity of the sun
to witness as to the fact.
Aristomenes was a commercial traveller, and hearing of a new
cheese, of exquisite flavour, to be obtained at Hypa/ta^ the principal
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city of Tbessalj, at a very low price, he bad gone thither with the
intention of buying it all ; but it had already found a purchaser*
Tired with his journey, and disappointed at its result^ he went to
the baths to refresh himsell^ and here met with an old friend named
Socrates, looking the picture of beggaiy and misery. After some
trouble, for his old friend was in a most desponding state, he man-
aged to induce him to accompany him to the baths, where he was
washed, scrubbed and anointed, and otherwise set to rights, — ^he
then took him to an inn, gave him as much food as he could eat,
and comforted him with a cup of wine. After a while he became
talkative and even noisy, but suddenly again changed his tone,
and heaving a bitter sigh from the bottom of his heart, began to
explain how he had been reduced to his present wretched condition.
On his journey home after a long absence, and with a large sum
of money about him, he had nearly arrived at the city of Laris8a
when he was attacked by a band of robbers and stripped of all he
had. Escaping with difficulty with his life, he took refuge in a
tavern kept by an old woman of the name of Meroe, who received
him very kindly, gave him a liberal supper and lodgings gratui-
tously, and kept him in her house till morning. Here, suddenly
breaking off in his narrative, poor Socrates said that he dared tell
no more, lest that terrible woman should smite him with some dire
plague. She was a witch, he said, of power divine. Nothing was
beyond her might. For instance, by pronouncing a single word
she had changed one of her lovers, of whom she was jealous, into
a beaver, and exposed him to the persecution of hunters ; a neigh-
bouring innkeeper, simply because he followed the same trade with
heraelf, she had transformed into a frog ; a lawyer who had con-
ducted a suit against her, she had changed into a ram ; and the
wife of a lover of hers, who was a chatterbox, and had spoken
scandal of her, she had condemned, as she happened to be about to
increase her family, to remain ever in the same condition ; it was
eight years, Socrates added, since that had taken place, and the
poor woman had been continually growing larger and larger, until
at last, she looked as if she was going to be brought to bed of an
elephant At last she had done so much mischief that the people
had determined to stone her to death ; but by a mighty spell she
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had confined them all to their houses until they had solemnlj
sworn to do her no harm. All took this oath with the exceptioii
of the chief conspirator against her, and him with all his familj^
house, walls, foundations, and the very ground the house stood
upon, she earned off to another city which was situated on the top
of a high mountain, a hundred miles distant.
After hearing this story, Aristomenes recommended his friend
to retire to rest^ suggesting that after some sleep, they would leave
the house and get away as fiwt as possible from the place before
daylight. Scarcely had he pronounced these words before Socrates
was asleep and snoring ; Aristomenes therefore, having taken the
precaution of bolting and baiTing the door, lay down on his bed,
which he placed against the door for greater security, and also
went to sleep. Barely had he closed his eyes, when with a thun-
dering crash the door was burst open, his bed overturned, and
himself shaken out and rolled on the floor, and concealed under
the bed. Peeping from underneath it, he saw two elderly women
enter the room, one carrying a lighted lamp in her hand, the other
a sponge and a drawn sword. Of these women, the one was
Meroe, and her companion was called Panthia. Approaching the
bed of Socrates, and drawing his head a little towards her, Meroe
plunged the blade of the sword into his throat, and afterwards tore
out his heart ; Panthia closing up the gaping wound with the
sponge and exclaiming—" Oh ! sponge, thou was bom in the sea,
beware how thou passest a river ! '* The women then withdrew,
and the door, and its bars and bolts resumed their proper place.
Aristomenes then began to think of his position, and to fear lest
from the circumstantial evidence being so strong against him, he
might be accused of the murder of his friend. Accordingly he
fancied that it might be the safest plan to leave the inn at once ;
this, however, he could not do, — ^the porter refused to let him out>
and so returning in despair to his room, he made a noose of his bed-
cord, flung one end over a beam which projected from the window,
inserted his neck in the noose, and by tr3dng to kick the bed from
under >iim attempted to hang himself. The rope being old and
rotten, gave way ; and the would-be suicide falling upon the body
of Socrates, tumbled with him off the bed and rolled upon the
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• ' . '
ground ; the pdrter at the same instant bursting into' the room
and shouting to them in a loud and discordant voice, Socrates, to
the great astonishment of Aristomenes, sprang up on his feet, and
began ro v&te the fellow soundly. Aristomenes, overjoyed, would
have embraced him, an attention which Socrates declined, and
aftier settling with the innkeeper for their entertainment^ thej set
out on their way. As the rising sun now began to render objects
more and more visible, Aristomenes stedfastly looked at his com-
panion, at his throat which he had seen pierced with the sword,
but could perceive no trace of any wound, and was inclined to set
it down as a dream caused by indigestion. Socrates shortly sug-
gested that he was hungry, and sitting down under a plane tree,
they began their breakfast of bread and cheese. Socrates ate
heartily, and then in oi*der to quench his thirst, rose up and went
to a neighbouring stream, and knelt down on the bank to take a
draught. No sooner had his lips touched the water, than the
woimd in his throat re-opened, the sponge rolled out and the
inanimate corpse would have &11en into the river, had not Aris-
tomenes laid hold of one of the feet^ and with dif&culty dragged
the body to the top of the bank. Thus died Socrates, and Aris-
tomenes buried him by the river ; then trembling, and afraid of
his own shadow, fled from home and country, and wandered about
in desert places like a conscience-stricken homicide. At last con-
demning himself to perpetual banishment from his native land, he
married another wife and settled in Atolia.
The gate of the city to which they were travelling, Hypata,—
was the common termination both of the story and of the journey ;
and bidding his companions fisirewell, Lucius entered the city, and
asked the way to the house of one Milo, to whom he had letters of
introduction. On his knocking at the door, it was answered by a
young woman, whom he desired to ioform her master that he
wished to speak with him, and was the bearer of a letter from
Demeas of Corinth. On being admitted, he found Milo and his
wife just aboat to begin their very scanty supper, arid presents his
letter which Milo reads, and then bidding his wife begone, desires ,
his guest to take her place, and tells his maid, Fotis, to get ready
a bed-chamber for him, and then to conduct him to the nearest
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baths. Lucius recommends his horse to her care, but sallies forth
to find the baths for himself; first of all, however, paying a visit
to the market, in order to provide himself with comestibles — where
being' cheated by a fish-monger, he discovers in the aedile who
investigated the case, an old acquaintance named Pytheas, with
whom he had been at school at Athens — and after bathing he
returned to Milo's house, with whom he supped, or at least was
asked to sup ; but after having to reply to an interminable series
of questions about his friend Demeas, his wife, establishment,
servants, and so forth, and many other people and things, he became
so thoroughly worn out with fatigue that he was compelled to retire
to his chamber, where without fear of indigestion, — for Mile's
conversation was all the supper he had had, he threw himself upon
the bed, and gave himself up to that repose of which he stood so
much in need.
As soon as he awoke in the morning, our hero set out to see the
town of Hypata ; and in the Forum overtook a lady of rank and
wealth, accompanied by an elderly gentleman, and attended by a
large troop of domestics. The lady, whose name was Byrrhoena,
declares herself to be a foster-sister of his mother^s, to whom she
was also akin, and requests him to accompany her to her dwelling.
The house was a magnificent one, the decorations rich and i*are,
and Byrrhoena presses him to partake of her hospitality, when she
puts him on his guard against Pamphile, the wife of MHo, whom
she represents as a great sorceress, given to falling in love with
good-looking young men like Lucius, and able to transform anj
who might resist her wishes, into any animal she pleased. This
was unfortunately just what Lucius wanted to hear ; he had had
his curiosity so much excited by the story of Aristomenes, that he
was only too glad of an opportuoity of seeing a little of that of
which he had hitherto only heard, and he accordingly made his
way home to Mile's, feeling far from inclined to take the warning
of Byrrhoena ; Milo and his wife were out ; but the pretty Fotis
was at home, preparing dinner, and Lucius takes the opportunity
of ingratiating himself with her. When at table with Milo and
his wife Pamphile, Lucius taking advantage of a prediction of bad
weather drawn from the lamp by Pamphile^ mentions that he him-
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self knew a great magician, one Diophanes, a Ohaldiean, of whom
Milo, who also knew him, told a curious story. He had been some
time before in the neighbourhood of Hypata, and one morning
while he was enunciatiag the decrees of the fates to a crowd of
people, a certain merchant named Cerdo, asked of him the proper
day on which he should set out on a journey for a certain purpose,
and on receiving the answer, paid him the 100 denarii which he
required as the price of his divination. Just as the Chaldeean had
put the money into his purse, he felt his gown gently pulled from
behind, and taming round, beheld a young friend unexpectedly
standing before him. While IXophanes was relating to him the
circumstances of a dangerous voyage that he had made, and of his
brother's death, Cerdo caught up the purse in which his 100 denarii
had been placed, and was out of sight in a moment.
The next day Lucius received a most pressing invitation from
Byrrhoena to sup at her house, an invitation which he would wil-
lingly have refused. However he made up his mind to go, and he
found a numerous assemblage of first-rate company there to meet
him. The conversation after a while turning on witches and their
powers, the guests called on Telephron, one of their number, to
recount for the benefit of the stranger, the story of the laceration
of his face by some of those hags. After some little pressing,
Telephron related his tale.
While still a student, he went on one occasion to attend the
Oljrmpio Qames ; and then, being desirous of becoming mow
acquainted with the Province of Thessaly, he visited the principal
places, and among others, came one day to Larissa. On his arrival
at this town he found that the little money he had had with him
was nearly all expended, and he began to think how he might be
able to provide for his necessities. Happening to loiter into the
Forum, he found a tall old man standing on the top of a block, and
proclaiming a large reward to any one who would undertake to
guard a corpse. The price offered was a thousand nummi, and
notwithstanding the warning even of the crier himself, of the
danger he would run, he at once accepted the offer. Telephron
was thereupon conducted to a house where he was received by a
lady in deep distress, and ushered into the room where the corpse
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lay. Faint and hungry lie petitioned for some supper, but in
Tain ; a lamp and oil were given him, and the door was closed upon
him and the dead body. After many efforts to keep himself awake,
the guardian of the dead at last fell into a profound sleep, from
which the r6veill6 of the city cohort alone awoke him. His first
impulse was to examine the state of the body, which to his great
joy he found as he had left it before his nap : and scarcely had he
had time to satisfy himself upon the point, ere the disconsolate
widow burst into the room, and began also to take account of all
the different members of the body by the light of the lamp.
Finding everything as it should be, she turned round and forth-
with ordered her steward to pay the promised reward ; and offered
to place the name of l?elephron upon the list of her household.
Telephron, overjoyed at the prospect of emolument, and delighted
at the sight of the gold, could not help inviting the lady to depend
upon him for any similar service that she might happen to have to
be performed for the future ; an ill-omened speech, which cost him
many blows and kicks, and led to his hasty and ignominious
expulsion from the house. In a short time, while wandering
about, thinking of the late events in which he had taken a part,
he met the funeral procession of the very body he had guarded ;
and as it passed through the Forum, an old man with venerable
white hair approached the bier, and in a speech interrupted by
sobs, called upon the multitude to avenge the death of his nephew,
who, he declared, had been despatched by poison by his wife, in
order that she might gain possession of his property, and be at
liberty to marry her paramour. The widow, however, denied her
guilt, and solemnly adjured the Gods above, to bear witness to her
innocence. The old • man took her at her word, and bringing
forward before the people a celebrated prophet named Zaclas, an
Egyptian, he besought him to use his power to restore breath to
the corpse for a few moments, in order that the dead man himself
might declare the truth of the case. This was done ; the corpse
upon the bier heaved a deep groan and said to the people, — "a
noxious draught was treacherously given me by my wife. Com-
pelled to yield my bed to her paramour, I died of pdson." The
wife, unabashed, began to quarrel and wrangle with her hudb^d ;
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the people listened, and some took one side, and some the other.
The corpse however settled the matter hj declaiing what took
place during the hours that Telephron was guarding him. The
witches it appears, had made their dreadful attempt to mutilate
the dead body, and called the deceased incessantly by his name,
until his limbs and stiffened joints strove with a feeble impulse to
obey their magic spells. But unluckily it so happened that the
names of the dead man and his guardian were the same ; and the
latter in his slumbers rising instinctively at the frequent repetition
of his name, suffered instead of the former, the intended mutila-
tion. The corpse furthermore declared that, though the door of
the chamber was fast bolted, the hags had yet entered through
some unknown cranny, and had deprived the living Telephron
of his ears and nose, and replaced the truncated members by
waxen imitations, undistinguishable by human eyes. Poor
Telephron, affrighted, immediately put his evil fortune to the test;
his nose came off in his hand, and his ears slipped through his
fingers to the ground. Thus rendered a ridiculous as well as a
mutilated object, he never dared return to his native country ; but
concealed the waut of his ears by his hair, and glueing on a piece
of linen cloth as a substitute for his nose, he had wandered about
from place to place ever since.
(To be continued in our next,)
M»p%upUm\ MtUhfi.
KIRKBY IREtETH.
LoONOLUDEn.]
KiBKBT Old Hall is a very interesting building, one of the few
remaining of the old manor houses, and like many of its contem-
poraries is now occupied as a farm house. It was for many
successive generations the residence of the ancient i&mily of Elirkby,
of Kirkby, loixls of the manor, and once bore the name of Cross-
housoi or Elirkby Cross^ from a cross which formerly stood on the
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green before it, and which was partially demolished by order of
Archbishop Edwin Sandys. This antique residence is situated
about a mile from the church at Beckside, and is approached
through an avenue of ash and sycamore trees. The building is a
substantial one of the Tudor period, and like the superior houses of
that day is built for defence rather than comfort, the small heavy
stone mullioned windows with their square-headed drip mouldings,
remaining entire. A low wall encloses a narrow strip of garden
in front, and the principal entrance is by a depressed Gothic door-
way. There is a fine embayed window on the ground floor, which
very probably may have been added during the time of the Stuarts,
as great alterations were evidently made during that reign, though
these are not so plainly distinguished as the changes which have
since taken place, and marred the whole beauty of the edifice; for
in the reign of James I. and Charles I., an attempt was made to
revive the Gothic style of the Tudor age. The construction of the
house is characterised throughout by great strength and solidity,
the massiveness and substantiality of every part of it denoting
careful construction and a desire for durability on the part of the
designer. Interiorly it does not now give a true representation of
the form of arrangement which existed in its palmy days, in con-
sequence of the modernising to which it has been subjected, but^
sufficient remains of the old common hall to give an idea of its
former proportions, and although the large open fireplace is now
bricked up and fitted with a " register " grate, the wide obtuse
pointed arch in the wall above shews the dimensions of the once
capacious chimney " neak." A broad roomy staircase, with huge
solid oaken steps, leads to the upper apartments, in some of which
are remains of oak carvings, the best specimens having been
removed to Holker Hall. Visitors are shewn a singular chamber
called the "chapel," now very much dilapidated, and most difficult
of access in consequence of certain alterations made by a late
steward whereby a passage was contrived to connect, in the most
convenient manner, the back parts of the house. The enthusiastic
antiquary, after mounting a table or high stool, is obliged to
scramble up to a trap door of very limited proportions, through
which he must wriggle and squeeze himself into a sort of dark loft
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where, by the assistance of a lighted candle he is enabled to make
his way over the bare joists to the chapel Portly gentlemen of
the Oldbuck and Pickwick class are unfortunately debarred the
pleasure of pursuing their investigations thus &ir, so they must
rest content with an imperfect description. There is sometimes
good even in things evil, for the very vandalism which has
desecrated this interesting relic of the manorial residence, has also
preserved it from spoliation and disfigurement by the vulgar, and
from the utilitarianism of the present age. The wonder is that
it has not before this been converted into a granary or a cheese
room. The present floor of the chapel, formed by the ceiling of
the room below is evidently higher than the original one, because
the place is reduced to meanness in size, and the heraldic devices on
the side walls representing the arms of the Kirkbys in their various
quarterings are nearly divided horizontally by the joists and plaster.
The roof is suppoi-ted by old oak rafters. Upon the walls are inscri-
bed, in black and red letter, the Lord's prayer, creed, and texts of
scripture, which in consequence of the window being blocked up,
are not easily deciphered by the dim light of a candle. At one
end is a closet, intended probably for the vestments, books, and
vessels, and behind this a small apartment, most likely that of the
chaplain, who was often obliged to remain in concealment, parti-
cularly if a Roman Catholic, or even an Episcopalian in the time
of the commonwealth. It is well known that many ancient
families, although they outwardly observed the reformed religion
in the reigns of Edward YI. and Elizabeth, secretly attended
their private chapels after the fashion of the Romish church,
conducted by their own resident priest.
During some recent excavations, a small cube-shaped stone was
dug up at the back of the house, which appears to have been part
of the pedestal of a sun dial, and bears upon its four sides the
following arms of Kirkby, viz : — ^Argent two bars, and on a canton
gules a cross moline or, joined by a rude hand at the angle to the
arms of Lowther; or, six annulets sable, three, two and one.
The opposite faces shew respectively the initials of Roger and
Agnes Kirkby, with the date, and the initials of the names of their
five sons and eight daughters :
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I-
E B
•E-K
liKAKALK
Ro
KF'KW-K
M
•KD
K
16 3 9
Beckside is situated at the base of a huge ridge of moorland,
over which the high road winds hj a long and steep ascent, although
the magnificent scenery which meets the eye on reaching the sum-
mit) is abundant repayment to lovers of the picturesque for the
toilsome walk.
Towards the fell, the view is restricted to the deep heather,
tangled gorse, and masses of naked rock which here and there crop
out above the moss and turf, but in the opposite direction is dis-
closed a glorious prospect of hUl and dale, mountain and moor,
and loflby eminences rising one above another in seemingly endless
succession, stretching away upon the horizon as &r as the eye can
reach. Several busy little streams run off the fell into the valley
below, receiving as they proceed, many tributary rills and springs
that issue from the hill sides ; these become more important as
they reach the "ghylls" — deep and narrow dells whose rocky
sides are nearly hidden with trees — where they break over the
loose stones and rocks, and fall in pretty little cascades, foaming
and' splashing in the course of their frequent windings. The
extensive slate quanies of the Duke of Devonshire are situated
on the side of this moor, and the huge masses of d^rts^ or
" batteries," as the rubbish bills 'thrown out on the hill side are
technically called, appear &om below like some mighty earthworks
or military defences, and the occasional report of a tremendous
blast rather tends to encourage the illusion.
On a nearer approach, the rattling of the rubble and stones, as
they tumble and leap down over the sides of the hills, the inces-
sant clatter of the slate-rivers' hammers, — ^* tinkling animation,
noisy concussion, and thundering explosions" — ^give to those
manufactories of slate a great appearance of activity. As the
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geology of the district will be popularly treated in an early number
by Prof. Harkness, it is unnecessary here to dilate upon the slate
formation. From the summit of these mounds there is a course
of splendid views — the plain below, dotted with cottages, £Etrms,
and meadow lands, and traversed by good wide roads; gentle
eminences clothed with plantations, and variegated with rock and
herbage, and brown heathery wastes ; the sea, washing the Cum-
berland shore and sweeping up the estuary near to the town of
Broughton, which seems at the entrance of the Yale of Duddon ;
Black Combe, with the villages nestling snugly beneath it, and the
Coniston range of hills backed by a succession of blue mountains
that extend in far perspective. The quarries are worked on the
side of a hill, and mostly open at the top, though some are subter-
raneous, resembling mines ; " levels," or tunnels, being formed to
bring away the rock and rubbish, and to allow the water to drain
of^ leading into large caverns,
''Where, far within the darksome rift,
The wedge and lever ply their thrift."
The slates are of the dark blue kind and very durable, and the
various operations employed to procure them are very interesting
and even exciting, particularly the more perilous. Id some cases
the workmen are suspended in mid-air by a rope, in the same
manner as the nests of the sea fowl are robbed on the cliffs of the
east coast ; then the process of blasting is attended with great
risks, so that, notwithstanding every precaution is taken, accidents
of a terrible nature sometimes occur.
Immense masses of slate rock are detached by blasting, in which
operation the quantity of powder used on different occasions varies
considerably, and these are afterwards again bored and broken up
with powder, and then reduced by means of sledge-hammers and
wedges, to such pieces as may be conveniently carried away. These
are removed and thrown down in heaps of various sizes at the open
sides of the sheds on the verge of the mound, where they are
subjected to the process of " riving," or splitting into thin plates,
a very interesting operation, which requres much skill and dexter-
ity on the part of the workmen, and can only be acquired by a
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long apprenticeship. The *' river " seizes one of the '' clogs/' or
lumps of rocky and holding it adroitly on edge with his left hand,
taps one side of it with a hammer like a small pickaxe, with its
points flattened and sharpened, until he establishes a decided
crack, which he follows up, and repeating this course, rapidly
divides the slab into smooth slates. When riven to a proper
degree of thinness, the slates are laid alongside of a man who sits
very commodiously upon a prostrate beam of wood, into the upper
side of which a long flat-topped staple is fastened, and upon this
he holds the undressed slates, and chips them into shape very
quickly. They are then laid aside, and classed according to their
size and thickness, the finest being called London — the second,
Country — the coarsest, Tom*s — and a very small kind, Peggy's.
The slates are carried on tramways by a series of inclined planes
down to the railway station at Sandside, whence about 10,000 tons
are annually sent away.
Besides being applied to the purposes of roofing, slate is, by
sawing, manufactured into paving for streets, also for ornamental
paving, chime ey pieces, cisterns, tombstones, mill floors, &c. ; its
great recommendations are — durability, elasticity, and strength.
Some of the slates of the districts take a good polish, and reveal
many curious stripes and figures, so that they are becoming very
generally used for mantel-piece&
There are two parochial schools, one at Beckside and the other
at Grizebeck, the former attended by one hundred children and the
latter by about sixty.
Silver coins of the reign of Elizabeth and James I. have been
turned up by the plough in this village. The public charities of
Kirkby Ireleth are both numerous and various, full particulars of
all bequests being given in the account of the public charities of
North Lonsdale, reprinted from the report of the commissioners
dated Jan. 1820, and published in 1852.
The small market town of Broughton-in-Pumess, in this parish,
is situated on the north west side of Fumess, about a mile distant
from the estuary of the Duddon, and under the shelter of the
range of hills which terminates in Black Combe on the Cumberland
shore. The town is placed upon a gentle declivity, with a southern
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aspect, which enables the houses, substantially built of stone and
roofed with slate, to be seen to good advantaga The fine open
space, upon the sides of which the houses are well placed, is an
ornament to the town, and was given by a late lord of the manor ;
the obelisk in the centre being presented by his widow some time
afterwards. The church is a very plain structure, situated south
west of the town, is dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene, and consists
of nave, aisles, chancel and tower, providing accommodation for
about 300 persons. The living is a perpetual curacy, in the patron-
age of the lord of the manor, and is worth about £108 a year.
The following is the list of incumbents : — Isaac Walker, 1750 ;
Timothy Cooperson, 1752; Jeremiah Qilpin, 1773 ; WiUiam Pear-
son, ; John Robinson, 1843.
Broughton was formerly a place of much greater importance
than it is at the present time ; the weekly market included all
sorts of merchandise, more particularly wool and homespun woollen
yam ; but since the introduction of machinery, domestic spinning
has been very little carried on in the district, and the market
has been almost absorbed by that of XJlverston. Broughton Tower,
the residence of J. Sawrey, Esq., J. P., lord of the manor, stands at a
little distance from the town, in an elevated situation, and is re-
garded as an object of great interest. The original keep is still
entire, and within its massive walls a spiral staircase ascends, while
in the lower part is the dungeon, which has long since lost its
terrors. The centre of the tower is ancient, but the wings are of
modem date. The grounds are well arranged, the park is of con-
siderable extent, and the avenue leading up to the house from the
town entrance, is very fine.
The river Duddon is the boundary between Cumberland and
Lancashire, and has its source at the foot of Wrynose and in the
tarns above Seathwaite, whence it pursues a very rugged course
till just before it emerges upon the smooth, fiat sands below
Broughton, where it expands,
" Gliding in silence with unfettered sweep."
It is a fine salmon stream. At low water, the estuary of the
Duddon may be forded by horses and carriages, but no guide is
appointed here as on the XJlverston and Lancaster sands. At high
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water the riyer is navigable to within a mile of the bridge, and
vessels formerly discharged iron ore^ and took in cargoes of pig
iron, smelted by charcoal furnaces. Large quantities of slate,
grain, malt, oak bark, hoops, basket rods, d^c., were at one time
shipped &om this part of the country, and coals and general mer-
chandise imported. A few miles below Duddon Bridge vessels of
from 35 to 100 tons burden used to take in slate, which was carted
across the sands to them at low water, several thousands of tons
being thus carried away annually ; but since the completion of the
Whitehaven cmd Fumess Junction Railway, scarcely a vessel
appeared, until very recaitly, on the Duddon sands, unless it had
been driven over the bar at the entrance of the channel by unusu-
ally boisterous weather.
Since the recent fortunate disco veiy of a valuable bed of rich
iron ore^ at Hodbarrow, on the Cumberland side, the natural
harbour of Borwick Bails has been suddenly called into use, and
a pier erected, so that almost every tide brings in or takes out
numbers of vessels loaded with mineral, the busy little steam tugs
adding to the general activity. Immense quantities of cockles of
a very large size were gathered on these sands at one time, but
they have be^i exterminated.
In the manor of Broughtoo there is but a small proportion of
arable land, which, however, is well cultivated, and under exc^ent
management. The surrounding country is very mountainous, the
wastes and commons affording scope for the rearing of sheep and
cattle, and where the hill sides are too poor for graadng, they ca&
be used for growing coppice wood.
A small school at the head of the town, endowed with £20
a-year, has been recently rebuilt by private subsciiption, and is a
handsome and commodious building.
The district is famed for its salubrious air and for the longevity
of its inhabitants, a tombstone being placed near the south-eastern
angle of the church, which is perhaps unequalled by any other in
the kingdom. This monument records the death of Mr. William
Walters, surgeon, of Broughton Mills, aged 78 years ; Ann, his
wife, 104 years ; Thomas Walters, 101 years ; Mary, his wife, 94
years ; W. Walters, 80 years ; Eleanor, his wife, 84 years. Six
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individuals, members of one family, averagiDg upwards of 90
years each, interred in one grava Many other stones exhibit
QxtTaordinaTy ages. A very remarkable one is let into the wall of
tbe church, near the vestry door, in memory of one Thomas Ash-
burner, a bachelor, who died in 1732, aged 91 years ; the following
epitaph copied from it may interest the curious in such matters :
A Man of Soirow, & Mj Ohiist, This is Mj
Aduersity Qroan & Cry
Under This Little Ston* Let Me Lean on Thee
Doth Lie Live, or, Die.
Who pray'd for all good Foelix quern faciunt,
People Heartily Aliena pericula Gaulmn
Fear Tfaou Thy Qod Jam Deniel Tadlo
Honour ye King, Love Peace it is a Ourva Senecta pede
Comely Thing. Friends FarewelL
The manor of Broughton with Subberthwaite, for which a court
baron is held annually in April, after having remained in the pos-
seesion of the Broughton family from time immemorial, waa
forfeited to the crown hy the rebeUion of Sir Hiomas Broughton,
who, at the instig!ati<m of the Dudiess of Burgundy, joined the
impostor LambeH Simnel after his landing at PieL Soon after
this, it was granted by Henry YII. to the Earls of Derby. In
the latter part of the 17ih century, it waa conveyed by Charles,
£arl of Derby, to Edward Leigh, Esq., Irom whom it was pur-
chased by Boger Sawrey, Esq., and is now ei\joyed by his descendant,
John Sawrey, Esq., J.P. According to the custom of this manor,
the tenant pays, on his admission,, a tw^aty-penny fine to the lord;
venders an ancient annual rent^ together with suit and service at
the court ; and is free, on payment of ten shillings to the lord, to
mortgage his estate.
A Ohapel of Ease wafi built at Woodland, in 16S9, and rebuilt
in 1822^ by the landowners, who are the pttbrons of iht curacy.
The last building gave place to a new and elegant chapel^ in 186ff.
Tlie value of the living is £68 a year, asising from land at Torver,
Millom, and lindal, purchased wiUi. grants obtained at diSereodt
times from Queen Anne's bounty.
SeathwaijKe Chapel, in Dunnerdale, was the scene of the kboon
of the << Wonderful Walker/' This individual was not re^owned^
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as some might suppose, for feats of pedestrianism, but for having
discharged the duties of incumbent of Seathwaite, faithfully and
zealously for thirty-six years, during which time he brought up,
educated well, and established in life a numerous family, and,
in 1802, died, universally lamented, at the age of ninety-three,
leaving £2,000, and a large quantity of linen and woollen cloth,
spun by himself, chiefly within the communion rails, where he sat
when engaged in teaching the children of the dala
The value of the living being only five pounds a-year, he was
obb'ged, besides exercising the strictest economy, to work in various
ways. In addition to teaching the school in the small chapel, with
the communion table for the desk, he acted as a public scrivener,
tilled his own garden, and two or three acres of land, besides
assisting his neighbours in shearing or haymaking, for which he
received a fleece of wool or heap of hay.
The chapel stands about the centre of the vale, and is a small,
plain-looking structure, but has an air of venerable antiquity about
it that well accords with the primitive character of the locality, and
the natural charms of the singularly secluded spot ; and there is a
touching simplidiy and a calm repose in the quiet graveyard,
where
'* Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep."
It is not exactly known when the church was built, but its pul-
pit was erected in 1697, and its south side enlarged in 1796. In
the churchyard is a venerable yew tree, twenty feet in circumference
near the base of the trank, which is supposed to be 200 years old,
and probably is co-eval with the chapel itself. The living, a per-
petual curacy, has been several times augmented from Queen
Anne's Bounty, and is now worth about £50 a-year. — Citrates:
Robert Walker, 1735; Edward Tyson, 1802; Robert Rolliston,
1854 ; Thomas Anderson, 1857.
The scenery of the Duddon, although a theme of the poet
Wordsworth, is not so well known as it deserves to be ; but now
the railway has been completed through Broughton to Coniston, it
is to be hoped that visitors, however brief their stay, will not &il
to devote a portion of their time to its attractions, for assuredly a
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more charmiDg and delightful spot the lake district cannot boast.
Along the road, with increasing height, every turn brings a suc-
cession of ever-varying, yet ever-pleasing glimpses of magnificent
country, and in the valley below the attention is arrested for a
considerable distance by the mansion, fine lawns, and extensive
grounds of Duddon Hall, delightfully surrounded by woods, and
sheltered by thickly foliaged branches of trees, which rise up
gradually until they crown luxuriantly the opposite heights. Bug-
ged rocks, all purple and grey, everywhere protrude, and hollows
and glens, where the fox-glove, furze, delicate ferns, and alpine
plants abound, are constantly passed ; the river is seen sweeping
along with shining curves, shooting round projecting crags and
promontories, leaping from ledge to ledge in showers of foam, or
gliding smoothly where it is silent and deep ; then the vast array
of magnificent hills, greenstone rocks, with screes or masses of
debri8 below, produce a combination of the varieties of nature,
which fills the heart with delight. Seathwaite tarn is the largest
and most interesting of the mountain tarns, and, notwithstanding
the stem, almost savage wildness of the scenery, the features of
which are of an alpine character, there is a degree of romantic
beauty in this retired comer which is rarely equalled. The fine,
precipitous, dark, rocky height of Wallabarrow Crag is very con-
spicuous, and impossible to pass unnoticed.
Dunnerdale and Seathwaite form one manor, which was anciently
held by the Kirkbys, and afterwards by the Hesketh family. In
1774 it was the property of William Penny, Esq., whose trustees
sold it to Richard Towers, Esq., of Duddon Qrova It was
subsequently held by the Rev. George Millers, and is now possessed
by Major William Sawrey Rawlinson, J.P.
Kirkby of Kirkby was one of the ancient knightly families who
were originally of Fumess, and derived their name from their
manor of Kirkby, of which it is probable they were lords at the
conquest. According to the Norman custom they assumed their
surname from their place of residence, which in after times was
called for the sake of distinction, Kirkby Ireleth. The first per-
son of this very old family that can be fixed upon with certainty,
was Roger de ELirkby, lord of Kirkby in the reign of Richard I.
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About the first of King John, he married a daughter of Gilbert^
son of Roger Fite-Reinfred, upou which the family assumed the arms
they afterwards bore. This Gilbert had married Helwise, daughter
and heiresa of William de Lancaster, sixth baron of Kendal,
and his ixsue William assumed the name and arms of his mother,
viz : — argent^ two bars, and on a canton gules, a lion passant gar-
dant, or ; which coat, with a different charge on the canton, was
in respect of this great house, borne by several ancient &milies
in Fumess,
Roger had issue, Alexander and John. The latter was a £ftnioas
lawyer in the reign of Henry III., fii'st made a justice itinerant in
2nd Henry III., a judge of the King's Bench the 20th, and lord
l;eeper the 56th of the same reign, and in the 12th Edwaxd L,
was a baron of the Exchequer. The fieimily continued to hold the
manor of Kirkby and resided at the Old Hall for twenty-three
generations, forming alliances with the highest families. The
seventeenth lord from the first Roger, married Agnes, daughter of
Sir John Lowther, of Lowther, in Westmorland, by whom he had
five sons and eight daughtei-s. This gentleman espoused the
royalist cause during the dvil wars of Charles I., and was obliged
to fly into Ireland, where he died in 1643. His son Richard also
fought on the side of the Eling, in whose army he was colonel, and
so encumbered his estate by his loyalty that none of his successors
were able to recover it. The manor, held originally of the Abbey
of Fumess, was mortgaged by Roger Kirkby, Esq., to a banker
in London, agent to Catharine, Duchess of Buckingham, her
grace acquiring the manor through the insolvency of her banker,
as part payment She left it to Constantine Phipps, lord Mulgrave
in Ireland, who sold it in 1771, to the right hon. Lord George
Cavendish, from whom it has descended to His Graee the Duke of
Devonshire, the present loiji
In the manor of Kirkby Ireleth, the widow is entitled during
her widowhood, to the moiety of the estate whereof her husband
was seij^ed, but forfeits her right thereto upon maniagia or breach
of chastity.
Every tenant, upon being admitted to a tieoemant, pays to ib«
Ipid of the manor twenty years quit-rent for a fine.
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Erety entire tenement was formerly obliged to keep one horse
and harness for the King's service, on the borders, or elsewhere j
(these were called ^* summer nags," of which thirty were kept in
Kirkby ; ) and was obliged also to f\imish a boon plough, and a
boon harrow — that is, a day's ploughing aud harrowing ; and no
one is to let his land, for any twm exceeding seven years without
license. Tenements in this manor are, by treason or felony,
forfeited to the lord. A tenant convicted of wilful peijury forfeits
to the lord twenty years' rent, and for petty larceny, ten years
rent. A court baron is held in the week after Whitsuntida
^oml #^01002}.
THE TERRACES OF FURNESS.
By MisB E, Hodgwn,
WinsaSf I first began, a few years ago, to examine the physical
aspect of this and neighbouring districts, with a view of furnishing
some details bearing on the Pleistocene or Glacial period, one of
the first features perhaps that arrested attention, was that remark-
able stiiping or terracing, which, as the eye becomes practised, is
everywhere observable on our slopes.
As I have not yet aiiived at any satisfactory explanation of
these stripes, I have thought it might be well to introduce the
subject into some local periodical, for the attention of local
observers, in the hope that, if deemed worth investigating, an
approxitnatingly correct solution may be arrived at.
Now any one fresh from the reading of Chambers' "Ancient Sea-
Margins " would naturally be led to decide that these are nothing
else than veritable "raised sea-beaches"— -remnants of levels
formed by the sea at a time of great submergence. As such they
have actually been regarded by more than one observer.
No doubt great caution is necessary in the adaptation of any
theory. That the sea has to some considerable extent encroached upon
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the land there is an amount of evidence from every part of the
country to prova Much of our own superficial gravelly strata for
instance, stretching between XJlverston and Bardsea, fringing the
present shore line up to 100 feet, are unquestionably sea-arranged
deposits. Sea shells, said to have been found in well-sinkings
many years ago, and more lately in cuttings for water-piping,
within this zone, would seem to point to the sea as the sole agency
in the disposal and configuration of these turf-covered gravels.
The retreating waters have lefb indeed very palpable evidence of
their former presence in those fine sectional beds of sea shells on
many of our coasts, that of Eumess included. But, to see a shore
line in every inland clifl^ "raised beaches in the plough-worn
lynchets of our downs" — and I may add tide-marks on our
boulder-clay-covered hills and moors, is only straining the evidence,
and giving more play to the imaginative powers than is consistent
with sound reasoning.
Now it is with the hope of tracing some of our own horizontal
markings to their true origin, whether natural or aiidficial, that I
point out two or three with which I am most familiar.
Firsts there is one stretching behind the Town Bank School, in
a S.E. and N.W. direction, along the fields on both sides of the
building. It is better seen in some lights than others^ and is
mainly visible from the road.
Another coming into view near Gameswell, crosses the Gameswell
road in a S.W. direction, and has a length, a little broken it is true,
of nearly half a mile towards Kosshead.
There is again a similar appearance traceable on the N.W. of
High Greaves, in Pennington.
Walthwaite Moor is also notable with some stripings on its
eastern face, and beyond Pennington, there are one or two near
Whinfield. These may be sufficient to suggest what is meant —
when the eye is once trained to look for them, more will be seen.
The above should not, however, be confounded with river-or
brook-terraces ; there can be no hesitation in yielding the latter
to the action of water ; whether that of rivers, or of the sea will
not be dogmatized here ; it is the stripes or level lines, away from
the valleys, to which attention is invited. Unlike river-and brook-
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terraces, which cou^jist (below the soil) of stratified gravels and
sands, those of the higher grounds are formed upon a stiff boulder-
clay or "pinel," as it is locally termed — unstratified* "tumultuous"
deposits, often extremely hard. The clayey portion is so fine, that if
moistened with water, under the microscope, it is found to dissolve
almost entirely away. It is indeed difficult to see, bow such a deposit
could ever have been subjected to the buoyancy of deep waters,
without this almost impalpable clay being either carried off
altogether, or re-arranged into beds. Notwithstanding, there are
eminent geologists who ascribe its very formation to the wear and
tear of grounded icebergs, drifting from a few sub-aerial centres, (as
our lake mountains) at a period of great submergence. Others
there are, who attribute rock-debris to the eroding action of a wide
spreading glacier, enveloping the British Islands, and surrounding
sea-bed, at a period of great elevation. Both theories are worthy
of respect, but to follow them further would be too long a
digression, t
A writer in the Geological Magazine, with more enthusiasm
than is calculated to inspire confidence, finds in the chalk districts
of Wilts and Dorset "thousands of raised beaches'' in terraces,
which it seems can be shown to have an artificial origin, inasmuch
as they are believed to be nothing more than the lynchets or land-
marks belonging to the old agriculture of those districts. This
writer is very ably refuted in a paper by Mr. Poulett Scrope. %
" "We know," he says, " that in early times the arable lands of the
greater part of England were held as in severalty by different
tenants or owners. We know, too, that on the arable common-field
system, nothing was more usual than for the same owner or occupier
* A little arrangement, seemin^l^' due to water-percolation, may now and
then be detected, but it is insufiicient to affect the general character of the
t The retention of the fine clay in our upland deposits, would be intelligible,
if we could regard the existing sifted materials which we call gravels, as
having formed a mighty superincumbent mass of boulder-clay ; of which the
present bQulder-clay is but the undisturbed, or little disturbed base. This,
while it would yield ample reco^ition of the lifting and transporting powers
of the sea, would point to land-ice as the agent in the formation of the great
old deposit.
X The Terraces of the Chalk Downs, by G. Poulett 'Scrope, Esq., M. P.,
F.R.S., F.Q.a, Geological Magazine, Vol. Ill, July, 1866, p. 293.
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to poBsefls and oultivate several distinct strips or breadths of land
separated from one another hy the lands of othera Let us assume
that a hill-side in one of these terraced districts was held in three
or four strips of land, lying one above the other, by distinct
oooapiers — ^the strips being, for the sake of convenience in ploughing,
longitudinal in form, that is, having their greatest length in a
horizontal or nearly horizontal direction, following the sweep of the
hill-side, whether curved or straight. The boundary line between
these several strips may have been originally only a mathematical
one, connecting say, two mere-stones, and yet a bank will soon have
been formed along it. For each upper cultivator will naturally
have taken care not to allow the soil of his strip to descend to
fertilize his neighbour's, below. He would draw the lower limit
of his strip by a reversed furrow, throwiog the last ridge of the
soil up-hill, and thus leaving a slight trench, sufficient^ however, to
stop the silt washed down from above, which consequently would
accumulate there in a bed, perhaps an inch or two only in depth.
But the next year or the next ploughing, the process is repeated.
The cultivator again purposely checks the descent of silt by a
double boundary furrow, and by degrees a slight bank of earth is
formed, which in the progress of years, increases into a lynchet or
balk, several feet in height^ with a somewhat flattened terrace
above. This is not mere theory," adds Mr. Scrope, *^I have often
watched the growth of such bankc^ and ev^i witnessed their
formation from the beginning."
Now in pondering over this satia&ctory clearing of so many ant
hills from the grand real features of nature^ I have been involun-
tarily led to inquire, whether some of our own horizontal lines might
not be similarly disposed of It is true they are by no means so
well defined, nor so artificial looking as the Downs Ijnchets seem
to be, judging by the sectional diagram given of them ; and it is
possible that in regard to these, the problem may be purely one for
the geologist to solve. It may be, that they describe, however
obscurely, the contour of the rock beneath ; and thus point to a
denudation older and deeper seated, or to a faulting in the beds,
or to some other non-apparent, yet natural cause.
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i0tk ^mt
''Many predoiu rites
And customs of our rural aaoestry
Are gone, or stealing from us."
ARVAL BREAD AT FUNERALS.
In the days of our great grandfathers, oat-bread, or "haver-bread,"
(from the Saxon, hafer oat), still in common use, was the principal
* 'staff of life" among the people in the Lake District. It was
made in a manner similar to the method now practised, the haver
meal being mixed into a species of pottage*, and afterwards clapped
or rolled into thin unleavened cakes, which, when baked, were laid
up either in kists or closet% within the influence of the fire, and
under these circumstances it is known to have the quality of pre-
serving its sweetness for several months. It may be remarked in
passing that the '' kists " alluded to were old-fashioned clumsy oak
chests, the fronts of which were laboriously ornamented with carved
borders, and joined together with woodpn pins instead of nails.
Only a few of these ancient chests of the true carved kind remain,
and where they do exist are invaluable. The chief subject of all
these old carvings was a kind of endless runic knot, winding in
the most intricate manner throughout the pattern. The doors of
the closets wei*e also ornamented in a similar fashion, and both
these receptacles for the oat-cake and other eatables were the usual
safe depositories of such things, in order that they might be kept
diy and out of the reach of the mice. Moreover, the haixlness of
the wood, the peculiarity of their construction, and the substanti-
ality of the whole, almost enabled them to bid defiance to time
itself, for many of those that remain bear dates from 1650 to 1730,
On particular occasions wheaten bread was used, and at funerals
it assumed the particular shape and significance called arval bread.
The manner of conducting funerals in former times affords an
interesting subject for the attention of the antiquary, and the
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peculiar customs to which we are about to refer, have been practised
even within the memory of a few persons now living. Upon the
decease of any one in the district, the regular ancient custom was
to invite acquaintances to attend the funeral within a certain extent
of country, in addition to those of relations and friends who hap-
pened to be residing at a distance. This was called the "bidding."
The number of people asked to be present at the ceremony depended
greatly upon the locality. In very thinly inhabited places, it was
usual to " bid " two at each homestead ; but where the countiy
was more populous, only one was bidden at each house.
If each family in the bidding failed to send at least one repre-
sentative, it was looked upon as a great slight, and felt very keenly
by the whole of the immediate connections of the deceased, unless
the absent ones were prevented by sickness or urgent private
affairs. When the guests arrived at the house of mourning on the
appointed day, they found a large table set out, covered with cheese,
wheat bread, and oat cake ; ale also, cold or warm according to the
season of the year, was served round to each of the assembled
company, a long time being allowed for refreshment before the
removal of the corpse took place. It was also customary for the
attendant neighbours to be invited to see the dead body, which each
was expected to touch This arose fix^m an old superstition, firmly
believed through all the country, that if the murderer touched the
person he had murdered, the corpse would begin to bleed ; hence
all who attended funerals were i-equired to pass this ordeal, to
prove that they were innocent of deceased's death. A small loaf
or cake — ^the a/rval bread — ^was given to each individual, which he
or she was expected to carry home and eat with the rest of the
fisimily, in religious remembrance of their departed neighbour ; a
custom it is supposed which had for its prototype the establishment
of the eucharist ; for it is argued, the very name shews its Saxon
origin, arval bread, from a/rfvUy awful, full of reverence, meaning
the holy bread used at the conmiimion. By this strange usage,
whole families wei*e made to participate with the actual mourners
in the last scene of man's career on earth ; and there is something
very touching in the idea of these primitive people, amid all their
roughness and simplicity, on the return of the husband, wife,
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brother, or sister from the burial, eating in respectful silence the
small portion of bread distributed among the household ; while
their hearts, rudely moulded though thej were, sympathised with
the lonely widow, the bereaved parent, or may be the poor un-
friended orphan.
Times like these, especially among the fells, and wilder parts of
the country, were calculated to impress the minds of ^ even the
most obtuse of the yeomen and peasantry.
It was customary in some localities for singers to head the
funeral procession, chanting psalms or hymns along the whole
route, or at any rate for a considerable distance-; sometimes, when
the church was a long way off, the solemn tunes were taken up at
intervals, and the sounds of the voices fell plaintively on the ear
as the sorrowful train wended its way along the country lanes or
by the fell side, to the last resting-place.
The following extract from an old lad/s will made in 1704, will
shew the importance attached to this ceremony. It bequeaths —
** twenty shillings, to be distributed by my said Son in Law to such
young men and others who shall sing Psalms before my Corpse to
y* Church all y« time of my funeral"
A few miles below Lancaster, an entirely different form was ob-
served to within forty years ago. All who were bidden were expected
to present the mistress of the house with a shilling each, towards
defraying the expense of the funeral The provision was what
they termed "white posset." made of milk, ale, and currants,
which were served up in very large bowls, generally borrowed for
the purpose, and placed upon a long narrow table, so that three
persons on each side of the table could sit to each bowl, and feed
themselves with spoons. After the posset, ale was carried round
in flagons to the company.
At Dalton-in-Fumess, however, the most singular mode of con-
ducting funerals prevailed. A full meal of bread and cheese was
provided at the " funeral house ; " and, after the corpse was inter-
red, the parish clerk proclaimed at the grave side, that the company
must repair to some appointed public house. Arrived there, they
sat down by fours together, and each four had supplied to ihem
two quarts of ale, one half of which was paid for by the manager
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of tlie fuueral, and the other by the company. While they were
drinking the ale, a waiter went round with cakes, presenting one
to each guest, which he was expected to carry home. In some
parts of Low Fumess, where the parish church was at a consider-
able distance, the bearers, who carried the corpse on a rude kind of
bier, (there were no hearses in those days) were obliged to rest at
intervals along the road, and places were erected by the road side
here and there, called *' resting stones,'' upon which the coffin was
placed until a relay was provided, and all had rested. In those
districts it was common to distribute to the parties attending, the
arval bread' before starting, and each person received a cake and a
qua/rter. When the procession arrived at the resting stone, which
might be half way to the churchyard, the company would dispose
themselves, sitting or standing round the bier, either talking about
the respective merits of the deceased, or other indifferent subjects,
and then, taking out the quarter cake, would eat it during the halt,
to refresh themselves and keep up an ancient custom.
The passing bell, so named from being originally tolled when
any one was passing from life, so that those who heard it might
pray for the person dying, was tolled at intervals on the day of the
death, and on the occasion of the funeral.
At Heversham, on the morning of the funeral, each of the three
bells was tolled six times for a child, ten times for a woman, and
twelve times for a man. This was repeated thrice j — thus, for a
child, the first bell sounded six times, the second six times, and the
third six times ; then each bell again in its turn until the whole
number was counted. In the afternoon the bells rung out their
solemn knell at intervals till the funeral, tolling for six or eight
minutes, and resting six or eight minutes successively. Another
beautiful custom, deserving to be recorded, prevailed " once upon
a time," in this locality, but now, alas ! it is more frequently
** honoured in the breach than the observance."
All passengers, whether riding, driving, or walking — on meetings
or coming up with a funeral procession, would stop amtil the
mournful cortege had passed on, at the same time uncovering the
head out of respect to the awful presence of death, even if they
had been unacquainted with the deceased person during life.
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Horsemen would dismount, and carriages and carte would draw
up to one side of the road while the remains of the yiotim of the
King of Terrors was borne alobg, to be in ite <^ narrow cell for
ever laid.'' In these days of revivals, it surely is not too much to
hope, that a usage of this kind, which has no foundation in super-
stitious reverence, or ignorant fear, but is a token of respect and
common politeness, will again come into fiishion, and that we may
live to see the better parte of men's natures stand out occasionally
in relief from their sterner attributes hereaboute, by practising
what is still observed with scrupulous exactness by some, even of
the untutored class in remote parte of England and in the High-
lands of Scotland.
#mj6! tx0m 0nx §0tvX ^0tU.
ANOTHER EPIC POEM IN FOUR LINES.
** Tis strange each line so great a weight should bear.
And yet no sign of toil, no sweat iqppear."— •DaYDur.
We have seen it somewhere asserted that the province of a critic
was to detect beauties where none abound, and to spy out faulte
where none exist To this dictum we must, however, take excep-
tion — ^it is not our province— nor do we intend to be so Quixotic
as to attack imaginary abuses. We have a far greater respect for
our high calling than to tilt at windmills, or draw our Excalibur
and thrust carte and tierce at a few painted marionettes exhibited
upon the stage of a puppet show. Our object in these articles is
simply to lay before the intelligent readers of our Magazine a few
gems containing —
<« Thoughte that breathe and words that bom,"
struck off at white heat, and ushered into the ** world's broad field
of battle" by obscure writers. Vn-Heraid-ed by any great name,
our gems have " dropped into their place like to a star new bom."
Never quoted in the Forum — ^but often in the Nursery — they have
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become part and parcel of the literature of Lonsdale North, and
as such they have a &ir claim upon, the "local habitation" ac-
corded them in the pages of our Magasdna
As a counterpart to the " gem " given in our last, we this month
select for our '^ wise saw " a " modem instance," to show that the
spirit of profound b<Ulu>9 has not departed from our midst. Its
author sits in the editorial chair of one of our local journals, and
in the exceedingly modest introductiou to his poem says — '''it
begins with a storm, an ^ect is produced, and closes with a catas-
trophe ! " This is true, but the description fails to convey a
tithe of the influence this wonderful poem has upon the mind.
Our readers shall judge for themselves — ^here then is the poem :
" The rain poured down, the lightning flashed,
And thunder rolled overhead ;
With terror and fear I trembled,
And tumbled out of bed."
Many of our friends, we have no doubt^ wiU look upon this poem
as an exceedingly stupid production, but in order to shew how
erroneous first impressions may be, and how wrong therefore it is
to jump at conclusions, we will endeavour to analyse it, feeling
confident we shall be able to prove that '' more is meant than
meets the eye."
Our author has divided his poem into three parts, and for con-
venience we will also adopt a tripartite division, but with a small
diflerence, He arranges it on the grand fundamental principle upon
which all epic poetry is written — the one we^ choose has never yet
been recognised, but it is nevertheless a logical and ingenious for-
mula for the analysis of a work like the one under consideration.
All works of art> be they " tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral,
pastoral-comica], historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-
comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited," —
must have a beginning, a middle, and an end Such being the
case, we assume this division as the most natural — resting assured
that it is one which can scarcely be objected to by the most
faistidious.
Before we commence our examination, we may state that the
poem is built upon the model of the alliterative verse of Piers
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Ploughman, (visio Willielrm de Pelro Plouhman) an obscure poet
who flourished about the year 1362, a little over five hundred jears
ago. Though lacking a little of the pictarebque quaintness of his
prototype, our author makes up for the deficiency by his piquant
modem phraseology. Take the first line, or begirming of the
poem :
<' The rain poured down, the lightning flashed."
What could be more expressive for the commencement of a poem
in which a fearful catastrophe was to occur 1 The pelting of a
pitiless storm — ** when all around blue lightning's flash," as Dibdin
sings, is a most fitting introduction to the second line :
" And thunder rolled oVrhead.
The thunder following so rapidly after the flash, leads us to believe
that the storm was near, and consequently the reverberation would
be loud — and here the art of the poet is shown — the interest has
never flagged, and the second line leads us to expect what the
necessary result would be. And now we reach the middle of the
poem :
" With terror and fear I trembled."
What could be more natural ) We know that there are some men,
aye^ and women, too, upon whom a thunder-storm acts with all the
force of a quack nostrum — ^'tis a weakness they have—had it not
been so in this case the world would have lost a gem.
Martinus Scriblerus, in his profound work IIEPI BAOOYS when
speaking of a tioie genius, says, *' if he look upon a tempest, he
shall have an image of a twiMed hedy^ and so it is with our author.
Surely the words of Scriblerus must have been in his mind when
he concluded hiH wondeiful poem
" And tumbled out of bed."
** Oh what a fall was there my countrymen 1 " How pre-
RaphaelitiQ the description ! Could the most minute Dutch
painter have been more exact ?
A critical friend to whom we showed the poem suggested that
two more lines would have made the epic more complete, and given
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a greater finish to the production. Something like the lines from
Blackmoje, for instance :
*^ All natiure felt a reTerential $hoek^
The sea stood still to see the mountain rock."
Perhaps something of the kind really did occur — we know that
recently a severe con&ussion was felt over a considerable portion of
Low Fumess, and we cannot but think that this &11 of the poet's
— now that we know of it — has been the most likely cause of that
strange oscillation of the land — ^for if we mistake not, Homer, on
the fall of one of his heroes, says :
'' And at his fall the distant EgsB shook."
" Horace," we are told, 1* in seai*ch of the sublime, struck his
head against the stars." Sublimi feriafn sidera vertice — and
** Empedocles, to fathom the profound, threw himself into JStna,"
— but our author, with for less risk, only ** tumbled out of bed."
The critical Mend to whom we have before alluded, suggests that
the word coiLch would have been more in keeping with the dignity
of the poem, but to this we demur, we like the word bed, there is
something homely and attractive in its very expression — as Hood
sings:
<< Oh bed ! oh bed ! delidoas bed.
That heaven upon earth to the weary head."
This to us appears sufficient authority for its usa
In concluding our notice of this wonderful poem, we may men-
tion that our attention has been drawn to its false concord, but we
cannot think this in any measure detracts from the beauty of the
piece. Judged by the ordinary canoDs of criticism, perhaps it
might, but we adopt a higher standard — a standard ushered into
the world by no less a genius than the celebrated Martinus Scrib-
lerus, beforementioned, who at page 146 of his work nEPi BAOOYS,
when speaking of expression, says : — " It must not be always
grammatical lest it appear pedantic and ungentlemanly ; nor
too clear, for fear it become vulgar ; for obscurity bestows a cast
of the wonderful, and throws an oracular dignity upon a piece
which hath no meaning."
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We have received an illustrated pamphlet entitled "The Limestone
Caves of Craven, and their Ancient Inhabitants," by Henry
Ecroyd Smith, Esq., author of "Reliquiae IsuriansB." It is a
paper reprinted from the Transactions of the Historical Society, of
Lancashire and Cheshire, before which it was read on the 11th
May, 1865. At the present time, when the subject of "bone-
caves '' is engrossing so much of the attention of the scientific
world, and the intelligent portion of the public, any contribution
to the already rapidly accumulating mass of facts, is eagerly wel-
comed. The caverns of Perigord (south of France), Devonshire,
Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and Lancashire, in the limestone formation
have yielded much information respecting the wild inhabitants of
these remote districts, the dwellers in caves, who in some cases
existed prior to the Romon invasion, and in others were co-eval
with the Roman occupation. The testimony of Mr. Smith, who
gives us the benefit of his experience and acute reasoning, is very
valuable, inasmuch as he brings home to us his researches in these
interesting caverns, which, in consequence of the existence of
similar ones in our midst^ we regard with double concern.
The lucid and vigorous style which always characterises the
productions of Mr. Smith's pen, commends his Archaeological
writings to us especially, and their freedom from the excessive
technical verbiage (with which some scientific authors will persist
in clouding their essays), is not the least of their attractions. An
article on the caverns of Cartmel will appear in an early number
of our Magazine, and considering the part our own locality plays
in this matter, we think our readers will be glad to have submitted
to their notice a resumi of the present available evidence offered
by Mr. Smith : —
" Firstly y that the Cfeven caves, originally mere volcanic crevices
" in the limestone, enlarged by running water, were the resort of
" large beasts of prey when dry, but, becoming increasingly subject
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*^ to inundation, the remains of destroyer and destroyed became
" commingled with the alluvial clay deposited along with a few rude
'* instmmentfii, these having been fabricated by a primeval race of
^'men, occasionally inhabiting the caves during war or whilst
^* engaged in the chase.
^^ Secondly^ that after long ages of alluvial deposition, they be-
'' came the temporary abode of a partially civilized race, possibly
« merely sojourning in these now upland regions — like the peasants
" of Sweden and Norway with their cattle during the summer
" months, at the present day — making many of their ornaments of
<< h<yne^ and their weapons still chiefly of stone 2jA flint ; —
<' Thirdly y as the occasional or accidental resort of a compar-
" atively civilized people, who, by communication with the coast
'' and the foreigners trading thereto, had acquired some knowledge
'^ of metals, and could appreciate an artistic ornament for the
" adornment of their persons ; —
« Fourthly y as a temporary refuge of a more or less Romanized
'' people during some sudden incursion of northern barbarians, or
^' in the last gallant struggles of the Brigantes with the might and
*' discipline of Rome ; —
'< Fifthly y as still a refuge when, on the gradual retirement of
^' the Imperial legionaries from Britain for the defence of the more
'< central portion of the Smpire, the North became fearfully subject
'^ to inroads from her ancient foes beyond the wall, and no man's
" tenement was safe ; —
" SiaMy, and lastly, as the dreary abode of the badgers, foxes,
" and wolves, preying upon the increasing flocks of a country whose
" inhabitants wero at length settling down into peaceful occupa-
" tions ; until, these vermin effectually exteiminated, the Craven
** caves were left to the custody of rats, who fed for age? upon the
" bones of their numerous predecessors. It was reserved for our own
" century to witness here the first enthusiastic groping and gnibbiug
*^ of the antiquary, associated with the dimly theorizing generaliza-
'< tion of the geologist and ethnologist ^
"The sister sciences of Geology and Archaeology, great and
" splendid as have been the recent efforts and successes of their
" more earnest professors, evidently oflbr a glorious harvest in the
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'^ futare. They may not be inaptly termed dark, mystic and long
« neglected chambers in the great temple of human knowledge, the
*^ mere portals of which have as yet alone been traversed, even by
" die most daring and enthusiastic of their votaries."
We have also recived an interesting pamphlet from the author,
on " Hawkshead Town, Church, and School," by A. Craig Gibson,
Esq., F.S. A., a gentleman well known, and still honourably re-
membered in this district.
The paper abounds with valuable information relating to the
past history of Hawkshead, culled from its parish raster and
other sources. Where all are equally interesting, selection is diffi-
cult — we give, however, the following : —
'< 1672 Aprill 8 — Thomas Lancaster who for poysonninge his
** own family was Adjudgt att the Assizes at Lancaster to be car-
** ried back to his owne house at Hye Wray where he lived and was
*^ there hanged before his owne doore till he was dead for that very
** fact, <& then was brought with a horseandacarr on to the Coulthouse
** meadows and forthwithe hunge oopp in Iron Chaynes on a Gibbet
" which was sett for that very purpose on the south syde of Sawrey
'' Gassy neare unto the Pool Stang and there continued until such
•* tymes as he rotted away bone for bona"
Should we succeed in obtaining the consent of the Historic
Society for the re-production of this paper, having already that of
the author, we will at some future date lay it before our readers.
^i^tmpmAtuct,
THE MYSTERIOUS INSCRIPTION ON KIRKBY
IRELETH BELL DECIPHERED.
To the Editor of the North LoTiadale Magaaine.
Sib, — I hail the appearance of the North LonsdoJs Aiagaaine
with sincere delight, and I earnestly hope that its career will be
long and prosperous. I have often thought that a loecU work, like
yours, would be a great desideratum, being as much calculated to
elicit as to impart information of the neighbourhood in which it
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circulates, wKile, at the same time, it serves as a repertory of the
geological or antiquarian researches and discoveries, which may
be made ; of the biogi*aphical, topographical, or literary sketches,
which may be written ; and of the numerous and varied note-
worthy events, which may transpire. The contributions, which
may be made to it from month to month, will form, in the course
of time, a grand reservoir of materials, with which the future
inhabitants of the district will be deeply interested, and from which
its future historians will be liberally supplied.
Among the different articles in the firat number, your " Topo-
graphical Sketch of Kirkby Ireleth " must have attracted no small
degree of attention, for it exhibits patient investigation and re-
searcL It is evident that the author and Ids friend, Mr. T.
Wright, have done their best to explain the inscription on one of
the bells of the church, though their efforts have been far from
successful What led Mr. Wright astray was his mistaking A for
E, C for A, I for L, and R for D. The letter, which resembles a
capital K, I have found in more than one instance to be A ; and
the knowledge of this enabled me to decipher the whole le<;end
with ease, which is as follows : — " H x ,*' an abbreviation for HIC,
or rather for HOC— "HOC x SANCTA + MARIAH ORA x
PRO + NOBIS," which means in English, '' By this, Holy M ary^
pray for ua" This deciphering of the inscription, which, I pre-
sume, you will admit to be perfectly correct, will cause, alas ! the
portentous mystery, which has been so long attached to it^ forever
to vanish.
I am, Sir, youra very truly,
Francis Evans.
6, Hoad Terrace, July 6th, 1866.
Statistics of Cartmbl in 1822. — "Theparish of Cartmel contains
28,000 acres. The commons within it cost £28,000 enclosing. It
is fifteen miles long (north and south), from Rosthwaite, in
Cartmelfell, to the Low Marsh; and seven miles broad (east and west),
from the point opposite Greenodd to the river Winster. It con-
tains 15,000 acres of arable land. There are residing in the parish
5,000 persons capable of attending church. * There is 1 church — 5
chapels — 14 inns — 8 corn-mills — and 3 packs of hounds kept in
the parish." — Lonsdale Magazine.
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WAIFS AND STRAYS.
"When found, make a note of.*'— Captain Citttlb.
[Under the above heading, it ie intended to repxodizoe little scrapi of infoxmation rdattng
to the district, fonnd floating abont the "wredks" of old magairinee, and from other sooroei.]
"Lancashire. — In tliis sliire, not far from Faumeaa FelUy or
HillB, is the greatest standing water in all Er^Umdy called Wincm-
der Mere, which is wonderful deep, and 10 miles over, and all
paved with Stone, as it were, on the bottom, it breeds* a fish called
ehcMre, no where else to be found" — Achmrdble Cv/riosUies, dec, m
En^cmd, 1682.
XJlverston. — "It is the little capital of Fumess, and drives a
trade suitable to the necessities of its limited district ; and holds
out to the gay and luxurious the temptation of a theatre and an
assembly room — and to the studious or the indolent the convenience
of a subscription library." — Daniel's Voyage r<mnd England,
FuKNESS. — In Fumess, in Lancashire, the following regulations,
among others, were agreed to in the reign of Queen Elizabeth : —
"Item, That no person within this lordship make any fray, on pain
of 6b. 8d. ; nor blood stroke, on pain of 3s. 4d. ; nor shall unlawfully
chide, on pain of Is. ; nor make tuxhill or hubble-showe, on pain of
Is. ; nor for break, on pain of 3s. 4d. ; Item, That no person slander
any juryman, nor any that giveth evidence to a jury, nor call any
person thief or perjured, or any woman whore, except they will
justify and make proof thereof, on pain of 6s. 8d."
A Compulsory Marriage. — It was said of old — "Marriages
are made in Heaven," but the following will show that overseera
of parishes have acted as match-makers occasionally : — " John
Dixon was sentenced to transportation for 14 years, at the York
assizes, for bigamy. The prisoner, on the 16th March, 1790, at
Wigan, in Lancashire, married a woman of the name of JanQ
Crosfield, by whom he had no less than 15 children ; and two years
afterwards he went to Ulverston, when he married Mary Huskin-
son, by whom he had 3 children, his former wife being still alive.
Copies of the registers of both marriages were produced ; but it
appeared by the evidence of Dorothy Salmon (who attended as
bridesmaid at the latter marriage), that previously to the marriage,
Mary Huskinson had had a child ; that she and the witness went
to the church by themselves, and when they got to the church-yard
they found the prisoner in custody of the overseer of Pennington,
(Huskinson's parish) handcuffed, for the purpose of compelling him
to marry her. On the verdict being returned, the learned judge
said, he was sorry that the parish officer of Pennington was not
present, for if he had, he would have dealt more sevei'ely with him
than he was disposed to do with the prisoner, for it was an indict-
able offence." — Lonsdale Magazme, April, 1821.
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MONTHLY SUMMARY OF LOCAL EVENTS.
[In confleqnenoe of going to press before the end of the month, this part
of our Magazine will, in futore, extend from the 25th to the 25th.]
Collegiate.— On the 27th June, at Trinity College, Dublin, the filev. John
Brockbank, B.A., master of the Proprietary School, Ulverston, took his
degree of Master of Arts.
Gbahob. — A grand Floral and Horticultural Exhibition was held on the
29th of J une, in the grounds of the New Hotel, Grange. The sunny weather
—the romantic beaaty of the locality— and the attractions of the show,
induced a number of pleasure -seekers to visit the place.
The Fall er Bain in Ulverston, during June, was 3*36 inches. The
heaviest fall in 24 hours occurred on the 11th, and the amount registered was
0*47 inches. Bain fell on 16 davs.— The temperature was the highest on
Wednesday, the 27th, being 86^; and the lowest on Monday, the 18th,
being 37*.
Layino the Foundation Stone or a New Boman Catholic Chanel,
at Babrow. — On the 8th ult., the Bev. Dr. Gosse, Bishop of Liverpool, laid
the foundation stone of a new Catholic Chapel, at Barrow.
Abnside Chuboh.— On the 5th ult. the consecration of Amside church
took place. Prayers were read by the Bev. W. Hutton, the vicar of Beetham ;
the lessons by the Bev. B. H. Smith, incumbent of Grange ; the epistle lyy
the Bev. E. Bannerman : the gospel by the Bev. W. Hutton ; and the
occasional pravers by the Lord Bishop of Carlisle.
Sinoulab i)i80oyebt 07 A Skctll.— About 18 months ago, a youth enga-
ged at the Ure pits near Lindal, found a human skull at the depth of 33 yards,
and not deeming the discovery of much importance, it was laid upon a wall
in the pit, and forgotten. On the 20th ult., working in the same place again,
the youth remembered the skull, and surprised his fellow-worKinen by its
production. Although no signs of a shaft are visible on the surface of the
{(round, the skull was found about three yards from the foot of one, wooded
in the peculiar manner of the *' old men's workings." The skull exhibits
some curious characters, and is marked by a singular flatness at the back of
the head, called by Dr. J. Barnard Davis, the parieto occipital flatness^
which is said to be the characteristic of an ancient British skull. Its greatest
circumference round the glabella and occipital protruberance is 21} in. ;
greatest londtudinal diameter^ 6} in. ; parietal width, 6f in. ; frontal width,
5j in. ; height, 5i in.
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
The Nobth Lonsdale Maoazine may be obtained of the Agents and Book-
sellers in th6 district, but should any subscriber prefer it, or experience any
difficulty or delay in receiving the work, he may ensure punctual delivery
by having it ])osted regularly from the office.
All communications which do not bear the real name and address of the writer
will not be noticed — this is insisted upon— not so much for publication
unless desired, but as a satisfactory guarantee.
We shall be happy to receive information respecting the past history of the
district old customs, remarkable facts, old local DAilads, epitaphs, or any-
thing Searing upon the plan of our work, whether quaint, aui using,
scientific, or otherwise.
All contributions and articles for insertion should be written upon one side
only ; printers object to '* copv" written upon both sides of the paper.
The eiditor cannot pledge himself to return rejected manuscripts.
Printed at the ''Advertiser"* Office, The Gilly UlversUm.
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THE
m»Mt ^Ai^mnt
AND LAKE DISTRICT MISOELLAUT.
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MORRIS, P.A.aL.
No. 3. SEPTEMBER, 1866. Vol. L
A CLASSICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL NOVEL,
By the Bevd, Henry Nod-Feam, M.A.; F.B,S,
[ooirriNirii) fbom oitr last.]
Here Telephron ended his story. The hour was late, and Lucius,
attended by his servant, set out to return to Milo's house, with but
very unsteady steps. When at last he arrived, he beheld three
lusty fellowd kicking at the door ; taking them for robbers, he drew
his dc^er upon them, and had the satisfaction of seeing them &dl
one after another, dead at his feet. Fotis, awakened by the noise,
opened the door, and our hero, panting with his exertions, crawled
to bed.
Scarcely had he risen in the morning, when a great confusion
was heard in the street before the house, the Magistrates and their
functionaries appeared, and led Lucius to the Forum, on the charge
of murdering three cicizens. The Prefect of the night-guard pro-
secuted, and the accused most pathetically defended himself, when
the senior Magistrate on the bench, dedaiing that the prisoner
must have had some accomplices, for that it was not at all likely
that he could have overcome, single-handed, three such robust men
as the deceased, bade that he should be put to the torture, unless
he would confess the names of his fellow-assassins. Upon this, one
of the female mourners over the dead, who declared that she was
G
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their mother, suggested that their bodies shotdd be uncoTered, in
order that the indignation of the people against the murderer might
be excited by the sight of the bodies of his victims. It was done ;
Lucins hin)self was ordered to remove the pa]l, and discovered,
instead of three ooipses, three wine-skins, pierced while in a state
of inflation with various holes, exactly corresponding, aperture for
aperture, with the gaping wounds which he remembered to have
inflicted the night before. The Forum rang with shouts of merri-
ment, but the more the mirth increased, the more increased our
hero's indignation at the insult he had received. The Magistrates
thereupon, out of consideration for the high rank of Lucius, waited
upon him at Mile's house, and explained to him that it was the
festival of the Qod of Laughter, and that it was the custom of the
people of Hypata to devise some merry trick in honour of the God;
and oflfered to erect to Lucius a brazen statue in memory of the
amusement he had afforded them ; an honour which was, however,
respectfully declined.
In the evening Fotis acquainted him with the true state of the
case, and explained to him the circumstances of the adventure that
had befallen him« Her mistress, Pamphile, was enamoured of a
youDg man, a Bo^tian, whom she endeavoured by magic spells to
win to her affections. Happening as she passed through the dfy
to catch sight of him in a barber^s shop, she ordered Fotis to return
to the shop and gain possession of a piece of his hair, of which she
intended to make use in her incantations. Fotis being discovered
in her attempt to abstract the hair, was compelled to turn her
footsteps home without it ; but fearing the anger of her mistress if
she presented herself empty-handed, and chancing to light upon a
man clipping goat skins for wine bags,, she took a piece of flaxen-
coloured goat hair to her mistress as that of the young Boeotian.
This was done while Lucius was at Byrrhoena's supper-party.
Pamphile immediately began her sorceries, and by the time Lucius
returned at night, she had so far succeeded as to inspire new life
into the skins, which coerced by the occult force of the spells,
received human breath — and thought, and heard, and waJked,
accordingly, and presented themselves at Milo's, and endeavoured
to force their way in. At that moment Lucius arrived, and his
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head being not quite clear from the fames of the wine he had been
drinking, he began to ky about him with his dagger, and oommit-
>ed the crime of capricide.
Deeply interested in the account given by Fotis, Ludns pre-
vailed upon her to make him a secret witness of Pamphile's
magical doings; and a few days after, had an opportunity of
watching her while she went through the operations necessary to
cause her to assume for some purpose or other, the form of an owl,
when she spread out her wings and flew away. No sooner did
Lucius see this, than he was also seized with a desire of under-
going for a time a l^e metamorphosis, and begged Fotis to procure
him some of the ointment which Pamphile had used to effect the
change. After mach persuasion Fotis was induced to fetcK a box,
and gave him the proper directions for use. Lucius accordingly
stripped himself naked, and anointed his body all over with the
precious ointment : but, alas I the effect was most unexpected ! As
he himself relates — " When I was thoroughly anointed, I swung
my arms up and down, in imitation of the movements of a bird's
pinions, and continued to do so a little while, when, instead of any
perceptible token of feathers or wings making their appearance, my
own thin skin, alasl grew into a thick leathern hide covered with
bristly hair, my fingers and toes disappeared, the palms of my
liands and the soles of my feet became four solid hoofis, and from
the end of my spine a long tail proceeded. My face was enormous,
my mouth wide, my nostrils gaping, my lips pendulous, and I had
a pair of immoderately long, rough, and hairy ears. In short,
when X came to contemplate my transformation to its full extent,
I found that instead of a bird I had been dianged into an ass."
Poor Fotis was au deseapoir; but she had sense left to point out
the remedy. — " * Tie fortimate," she said, " that the cure is not
difficult; again once more ere long thou wilt be my Lucius;
nought more hast thou to do but to eat roses in the morning, and
then immediately thou wilt quit the form of an ass, and regain
thy human figura" — But for the present, Lucius in his new form
was conducted to his proper resting-place, the stable, where lie
found his own horse, and another ass, belonging to his host Milo.
llie two first occupants of the stable, laid their noses together and
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plotted schemes for the destructioii of the intruder ; and as he
was advancing for the purpose of taking a little of the barley
which he himwelf had given them the evening before, they furiously
lashed out their heels and drove him away. Sad and disconsolate,
in the furthermost comer of the stable, he was bemoaning his
misfortune, when to his delight he discovered near by, a little
statue of Hippona, the tutelar goddess of horses, wearing on its
head a chaplet of fresh blooming roses. Scarcely had he reared
himself on his hind legs in order to reach the flowers, when his
own serving-boy, who was in attendance upibn his horse, perceived
his intention, and with a rough knotted cudgel began to belabour
him most unmercifully ; nor did he cease doing so until he was
interrupted by the sudden entrance of a troop of banditti, who
firat broke open the house of Milo, and having possessed them-
selves of all its valuable contents, packed them upon the backs of
the hoi*se and the two asses, and then set out for the mountains.
After travelling some way, they came at length to a pleasant little
garden, in which Lucius quickly perceived a cluster of new-blown
roses dripping with the morning dew. Filled with joy and elated
with hope, he was on the point of stretching out his neck to the
prize, when the reflection came across him that the sudden trans-
formation into a human form, in the midst of a band of robbers,
would lead to certain destruction ; he therefore resolved to wait •
for a more auspicious opportunity, and to champ, with what patience
he could, the bridle imder the form of an ass for a longer period.
At last the robbers arrived at a village where they seemed to be
known, and Lucius, relieved of his pack, was turned loose in a
meadow to graze. Espying at a distance, predominant among the
foliage, the bright hue, as he thought, of roses, he forthwith set off
in a gallop, but found on his arrival, that they were but what are
called " laiu'el-roses," of a nature deadly to all kinds of cattle.
Moreover he was now trespassing, and was soon surrounded by a
crowd of dogs and rustics, whom with great difEiculty he kept at
bay, until his owners, the robbei*s, came up to his rescue. After a
long and fatiguing journey, they reached the robber^s cave, where
dwelt an old woman, who welcomed them in, and had already pre-
pai'ed for them their bath and a sumptuous repast Here they
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were soon joined by another troop, who also had brought with
them much booty, and one of whom related to the first company
the history of their late doings. — At Thebes they had made an
unsuccessful attempt, in which they had lost their brave leader
Lamachus ; and in the same part of the country an attack upon
the cottage of an old woman had deprived them of the assistance of
another bold chief, named Alcimus, whom the old crone had con-
trived to tumble out of a window. At Platesa they had met with
better fortune, though here again they lost a third distinguished
member of their band, named Thrasyles, who had disguised himself
in a bear's hide, and had been sold by them to a very rich inha-
bitant of the town, of the name of Demochares. One moonless
night, Thrasyles, after despatching the porter at the gate, and taking
possession of his keys, let in his comrades, who laid hands on all
the gold and silver treasures they could find. — They, having filled
their sacks, took them off to a place of security, Thrasyles and one
of the robbers awaiting their return. An unlucky noise, however,
awoke one of the servant-boys of the house, who immediately gave
the alarm that the great bear was loose, and was wandering at full
liberty about the place : the rooms were forthwith filled with
people carrying weapons of all kinds and shapes, who stood guard
at the several outlets of the house, and then brought a parcel of
huge wolf-dogs to attack the bear. — Thrasyles fought well, and even
fought his way from the house ; but much torn by the dogs which
now set upon him from all the neighbouring streets, he was at last
finished by the assistance of several tall strong men, who with
the assistance of swords and spears accomplished the work which
the dogs had well-nigh brought to a conclusion. His sorrowing
friends packed up their spoil, and made their way home.
At a late hour of the night, the whole troop sallied out again,
but returned at an early hour of the day with no booty, and but
one solitary prisoner, a beautiful damsel, whom they left in charge
of the old woman, and again departed. The maiden was overcome
with grief and terror ; and related that she had been torn away
from the embrace of her mother at the moment when she was
whispering in her ear all her parental hopes and aspirations, pre-
paratory to delivering her to her betrothed husband. The old
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woman, to comfort ii«r, iimi^ hw to listen to a tale "virkich forms
by £ea: Uie most beautifol episode in the book-r-the celebrated stoiy
of « Cupid and Psypbe."
To epitomize this tale m Bucb a manner as to do it justice is
Bunply impossiUe ; it m poetry throughout^ and is one of the most
charming allegories in existence.
Psyche wgs the youngest, «nd by far the most beautiful of three
fair daughters pf the King and Queen of a certain city ; so beautiM
was she, and so great was the &me of her beauty, that Venus her-
self became jealous of her, and desired her son to punish her by
causing b^r to fall in love with some mortal of mean condition —
** a wretch whom Fortune hath stidpt of health aud patrimony, a
miserable groveUing outcast^ whose character Fame hath blasted, a
being such as the universal world, within its wide expanse, hath
not his fellow."
By command of the oracle of Apollo, Psyche, arrayed in bridal
dress, and laid on a bier, was conducted in funeral procession to a
rock, and there left by her sorrowing parents and people. Scarcely
had they taken their depa^re, when Zephyi*, blowing a gentle
breea^, and tenderly lifting her from the rock, bore her down into
the beautiful flowery recesses of l^e valley below. Here she found
a magnificent palace, filled with ridies from all parts of the world,
voices wer^ heard around whi^h luvited her to enjoy all that she
saw, and invisible hands ministered to her wants. At night she
was visited by her husband, who however left her before the dawn.
Her sisters, presuming from the &ct of her disappearance from the
rock, that Psyche was dead, uttered the most doleful lamentations,
which reached her ears as she sat in her palace, and she b^ged her
husband to be allowed to have l^em brought to her iha,t she might
soothe their sorrow. The request was granted, and her sisters
came, and brought Psyche's misery with them. Through jealousy
of her happiness, they managed to make her believe that in the
darkncHs of the night she was embracing only some hideous
monster, and ihey even induced her to get ready a lamp and a
knife, that she might discover the nature of her husband, and rid
herself of him. This Psyche did; she lighted the lamp, and
beheld by its first rays — ''the very gentlest and sweetest of 9II the
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wild beasiB that ever were seen in the world— *the beautiful Qod of
Love — Oupid himself-Hsofbly, soundly deeping."— -Ohanned witb
his beauty —
'' Overcome by the sense of her good fortune, and in&tuated
more and more every moment, she leaned in excess of tenderness
over the rosy deity, trembling and agitated lest she might awake
him, till the lamp elevated in her hand, whether fix)m the genuine
envious perfidy of its nature, or the desire itself to impress a kiss
on an object so beautiful, spirted a drop of scalding oil from the
summit of its flame on Cupid's right shoulder."
Cupid awoke, and afber censuring Psyche bitterly for her mis«
trust of him, spread his wings and flew away. The first impulse
of Psyche was to throw herself into a liver; but its waves in
honour and fear of the God of Lote, wafted her gently away to
the shore. Then wandering about, first to the temple of Ceres,
then to that of Juno, who both pitied, but dared not shelter her
from the wrath of Venus, she at last presented herself at the abode
of y enus herself, in the hope of there meeting with her husband*
The treatment which she received at the hands of the enraged
Goddess was cruel in the extreme ; the tasks which she gave her
to do impossible, had not Cupid, who still loved her, secretly man-
aged to assist her. At length Cupid recovered from, the effects of
his hurt, pleaded with Jupiter himself for permission to marry his
beloved. A full council of the Gods was held, and Jupiter made
them» acquainted with the petition of Cupid, and his own intentions
with regard to the matter. Mercury was ordered to fetch Psyche
to heaven, and Jupiter himself presented her with a cup of
Ambrosia, — ^the essence of immortality — and the nuptials of Cupid
and Psyche were celebrated amid the joy of the assembled Gods."
It has been observed that, '* In this pleasing story Psyche evi-
dently represents the human soul, which is purified by passions
and misfortunes, and thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and
pure happiness."
While Lucius was still thinking upon the " pretty fable " he
had heard, the robbers returned laden with booty, but with severa
wounded among them. The booty they stowed away ; those who
were unable to accompany them tJiey left at home, and then set off
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again, taking Lucius and his horse with them as beasts of burden.
Lucius fell lame, and the robbers determined to put him to death.
But upon their reaching the cave again, which they soon did, for
the journey was not a long one, they unloaded him, and forgetting
to put their threat in execution, sallied forth, again, this time
accompanied by their wounded comrades whose hurts were dow
dressed.
Lucius then thought it as well to make a start for liberty ; and
so, snapping asunder the leathern thong that confined him, he was
upon the point of taking to his heels, when the cunning old woman
espied what he was after, and seized upon his halter. The captive
damsel ran out at the old woman's cries for assistance, only to find
her being dragged along the ground holding on to the thong. This,
the damsel wrenched out of the old woman's hand, and jumping
upon the ass's back urged him to his utmost speed, but all in vain.
In the road that led to her parents' house, they met again with the
robber-band, who came to the resolution, over their dinner, of
cutting Lucius' throat next morning, and sewing up the damsel in
his inside.
Scarcely had morning broke, ere a spy of the robbers at Hypata
made his appearance at the cave, and related to them what had
taken place at that city after their attack upon the house of Milo ;
Lucius had the satisfaction of hearing that the robbery of his host's
property had been attributed to him. The robbers in their turn
recounted their own doings, and told the spy of the severe losses
which the band had experienced by the death of so many of their
bravest men. Upon this he advised them to remain a little more
quiet, at least for a time, and moreover to recruit their ranks, and
to fill up their force to its fall complement He said that he him-
self knew a fine young fellow, who was quite willing to join their
company, if they would allow him to do so. He was requested to
bring the young man, and soon returned with a ragged-looking,
but strong fellow, taller and larger than any one present. He
announced himself as a robber of Macedonia, known as Hcemus
of Thrace, son of the robber Thero, and gave them an account of
some of his exploits ; then drawing from his bosom a bag of money,
he presented it to them as a free-will offering to the troop, and
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proposed himself as their leader. His proposal was adopted, and
afler changing his rags for a better dress, with which his new com*
rades provided him, he was led to the seat of honour at the head
of the supper-table. During the repast the conversation turned
upon the young captive damsel, her attempted escape, and her
intended death ; whereupon the new chief desired to see the girl —
but when conducted to her, turned on his heel with a sneei* of
contempt, and ^resumed his place at the table ; and on the former
conversation being renewed, he gave it as his advice, as promising
greater gain to the troop, that instead of putting her to death, they
should send her to some populous town and sell her as a slave.
This plan met their approval, and the captain then proposed that,
in order to insure success to all their undertakings, thej must begin
by offering a sacrifice to their patron deity Mars. He with ten
comrades forthwith set out for the nearest castle in order to get
the wine and the sheep for the sacrifice; while those who were left
at home lighted an enormous fire, and built an altar to the God.
The new chief showed as much skill in conducting the enter-
tainment after the sacrifice, as he had already in leading the
marauding party to provide matter for the repast ; and taking upon
himself among other duties, that of butler, he supplied all the
company with wine as fast as they could pour it down their throats.
In addition to all this, he waited diligently upon the young captive,
(between whom and the captain, Lucius soon discovered that some
understanding existed) and carried her secretly, the most delicate
morsels from the robbers' table. The chief was in fact no other
than her betrothed Tlepolemus, who had thus disguised himself in
order to eflect her libeitition — nor did he fjEiil in the attempt. He
so plied the robbers with wine — in which Lucius imagined that he
also mixed something soporific — that it was not long ere they all,
without exception, lay wrapped in insensibility. Then binding
them all in strong stout cords, and so leaving them, he lifted the
damsel on Lucius' back, and proceeded home with his bride.
Leaving her for awhile at her parents' house, he returned with a
crowd of citizens to the robbers' cave, where, with the assistance of
his companions, he put them all to death, and returned with their
booty to the city. The happy damsel knew not how to express her
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gratitude to the ass who bad been instrumental in aiding ber
escape, but the plan ultimately adopted was tbat of consigning bim
to the care of the master of the stud of borses, witb particular
injunctions as to tbe care to be taken of bim. But notwithstand-
ing all tbe orders given, Lucius met witb but indifferent treatment,
being sometimes over-worked in a mill, sometimes cruelly beaten
and otherwise horribly treated by his new mistress, the wife of the
master of the stud ; and all hope of having his condition bettered
was soon destroyed by the death of her whose Hfe he had assisted
in saving. ^
It appeared that Tlepolemus had had a rival suitor for her band,
named Thrasyllus, who in the midst of the excitement of a boar-
bunt had managed to murder bis friend, trusting that the wounds
would be supposed to have been made by the tusks of the infuria-
ted animal Shortly after this, he ventured to renew his proposals
to the widow, and even in the madness of his passion for her, avowed
his treachery to her husband. The truth of his confession was con-
firmed by Tlepolemus himself, who appeared to his widow, and narra-
ted to her the circumstances of his murder. Henceforth she thought
but of revenge. She therefore pretended to accede to his wishes,
and gave him an assignation. Thrasylus was received by her nurse,
and persuaded by her to drink of a cup of drugged wine. No
sooher did the potion have its desired effect, than Charity (for such
was the name of the widowed woman,) came* into the room, and
with the long pin which transfixed her hair, deprived the sleeping
Thrasyllus of sight. Then making her way to the tomb of her
murdered husband, with his favourite sword in ber hand, she pro-
claimed to the assembled crowd the circumstances of the case, and
plunged the weapon into her heart. Thrasylus, too, when con-
scious enough to know all that had taken place, overcome with
remorse, caused the doors of the sepulchre of Tlepolemus and
Charity to be opened, and then closed forever upon him — dooming
himself by his own sentence to perish by starvation.
Upon hearing of the death of their master and mistress, the
master of the stud and his wife hastily packed up their property,
and set out to seek another domicile. After much danger and
more fear they arrived at a village in which a tenible event bad
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ju9t taken plaoe. A woman, jealous of her huaband, }iad thrown
herself with her child into a deep well The husband and wife had
been servants in the house of a master, who, when he heard of the
death of the woman, became very indignant; and, satisfied that the
woman had sufficient cause for her jealousy, ordered the husband
to be seized and bound, naked and anointed with honey, to a Sg
tree, la the neighbourhood of which a large colony of ants was
established ; the tiny insects, attracted by the honey, covered the
unfortunate wretch's body in swarms, and very speedily and
thoroughly devoured him.
(To he conclt^ded in <mr next,)
Wapp^Uml MtUktfi.
ALDINGHAM.
This parish contains the townships of Upper and Lower Aldingbam,
Gleaston, and Leece, and extends five and a half miles in length by
three and a half. in breadth, enclosing an area of 4,674 acres. Its
boundaries are, on the east, Morecambe Bay; on the north-west,
the parish of Urswick, and on the south-west the parish of Dalton.
The population in 1801 was 633 ; in 1811, 696 ; in 1821, 760 ; in
1831, 884 ; in 1841, 907 ; in 1851, 968 ; and iu 1861, 1011.
Aldingham, or as it is sometimes spelt in ancient documents,
Haldingham, is mentioned in Domesday Book, aud the Saxon lord
of that period was called Emulf, who had six carucates of land to
be taxed. The derivation of the word has given rise to much con-
troversy, Dr. Todd being of opinion that it comes from HaHd-ing-
ham, the habitation near the hanging stones, and Mr. Baines from
eaildy old, ing, a meadow or pasture, and Aom, a habitation. Ing
also signifies a son, and haid, to hold, so that it may be defined as
the dwelling held by the son. l%e Rev. F. Evans thinks it is
from the British word ailltig or dldigy a clifiy place, a plaoe <^
ascents, and ham, a house or abode. We are disposed to give the
word credit for Saxon origin entirely, inasmuch as the Sa^cons were
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in the habit of calling their lands after their own names, while the
Normans generally took their surnames from their place of resi-
dence. Hence we may infer that Aldingham was the dwelling of the
Haldinga8y as Helsingham was of the ffelsingas, and Framlingham
of the FranhlingtM.
Tradition states that the Church at Aldingham once stood in the
centre of the parish, and by the encroachment of the sea upon tbis
part of the coast that four villages, Crivelton, Rosse, Fordbodele,
and Low Scales have entirely disappeared. The three former are
recorded in the Domesday survey, and Mr. Beck, in his Annates
Fv/mesienaeSf p. 112, shews the fallacy of the story, as far as the
two first are concerned. From the chai-tulary of Fumess Abbey
he gives an extract of a deed executed between Michael le Fleming,
lord of Aldingham, and Ewan d'Avranches, first abbot of Fumess,
about the early part of the twelfth century, and soon after the
foundation of the abbey, referring to an exchange of land between
the two parties, wherein the said abbot was accommodated witlj
the adjacent lands of Ros and Crivelton in place of TJrswick and
Bardsea, which he gave up to Michael, on account of their distance.
According to the same authority, the document in question
shews that Crivelton afterwards obtained the na^me of Newton,
''pro Roos et Crivelton vocatis nunc Rus et Newton ;" thus, two
villages, which West has erroneously, and without any testimony,
placed on the Cartmel wharf, have been proved to be still in
existenca Fordbodele, as its name implies, was near the ford or
crossing of the channel, and was very probably obliterated by the
tide, which has been gradually intruding for many years past upon
this side of the promontory of Furnesa It is extremely doubtful
if such a place as Low Scales ever existed.
The township of Upper Aldingham includes the villages of
Baycliffe, Sunbrick, and Scales, with the parish church, the Moat
£Eirm, the rectory, Aldingham Hall, and Aldingham House.
Baycliffe is inhabited chiefly by farmers and fishermen, the latter
finding abundant employment in the waters and on the sands of
the adjoiniiig bay. Sunbrick is a hamlet on the side ^f Birkrigg
common, commanding a series qf splendid views, and is remarkable
for a lonely burial ground looking out towards the sea, which was
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thus beautifally described by Edwin Waugh, after a visit to this
interesting locality : — " This is the oldest graveyard of the Society
of Friends. It is surrounded by a high stone wall, and carefully
kept in order. The door is generally locked, but I found it simply
fastened with a staple and chain, and a wooden peg. The interior
contains no visible commemoration of the dead ; but a thick swathe
of the greenest grass covers the whole area, save on the higher side,
where picturesque fragments of limestone rock, rising above the
rich herbage, are so beautifully bemossed here and there, that it
seems as if nature, in her quiet, lovely way, had taken in hand to
keep the memories of these nameless tenants of the dust for ever
green. There was something more touchiagly beeautiful, more
suggestive of repose, in the recordless silence of this lone grave-
yard of the persecuted puritan, than in any cemeteries adorned
with gmnd efforts of monumental art — which so oft intrude upon
the solemnity of death things sullied by the vanities of the living.
The sacred simplicity of the spot made one feel more deeply how
sound they slept below, in that unassailable shelter from the hurt-
ful world. The very Seabreeze seemed to jiause there, and pass
over this place of unawaking dreamers in a kind of requiem-hush.''
Scales is a quiet little place of one street, possessing some sub-
stantial farm houses, and unpretentious looking villa residences,
tastefully decorated with trees and shrubs, giving a pleasing
character to the village.
On the common called Scales Haggs, where the limestoDe rock
crops out frequently, and assumes the most fantastic and extraor-
dinary shapes through the action of the weather for many genera-
tions, are some caverns, which now the bone caves are attracting
so much attention in the scientific world, may be excused a notice
in this sketch, although not much of really archaeological value is
known of them. The late Mr. Close^ in his appendix to We^^B
Antiquities of FumesSf says, '^ there are several reasons to believe,
that the hill called Scales-Haggs, contains sevei*al subteri-aneous
vacuities, and that some of them have been known to our ancestors.
Some years ago, two labourers employed in excavating the side of
the hill upon Scales green, for the purpose of containing a lime
kiln, found under a structure of solid rock, a quantity of fine
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mould containing two human skulls, and it was supposed the rest
of 'die bones of two human skeletons, one having been deposited
abore the other, one with the skull towards the east and the other
towards the west. By removing the earth, they obtained an
entrance into a cavern, consisting (as it was described to the writer)
of three cells communicating with each other by a descending
passage ; but the way by which the dead had been introduced was
never ascertained." This is all the information Mr. Close gives us
of this discovery, but his description of the place is a tolerably
accurate one. From the interior of the lime kiln long disused, a
passage leads directly into a deep fissure or ** klink " in the rod^,
descending almost perpendicularly, and of a width allowing only
one person at a time. At the bottom of the fissure a hole large
enough for a man to creep through opens into a small chamber^
which however contains no trace of human remains at the present
time.
A little distant south-eastward from this is another cave with a
natural masked entrance, but it is disappoloting to find it dosed by
largo stones and earth (to keep out cattle as alleged), and an out-house
erected in front, and abutting on the rock, "to make assurance
doubly sure."
From all accounts there is no doubt this cave would repay
investigation.
In September 1803, a small heap of stones was cleared away
from a spot on the eastern side of the road, about twenty y»rds
from the wall dividing Scales and Baycliffe Haggs, and revealed
an urn containing some pieces of calcined bone and ashes. The
urn was about half an inch in thickness, and about fourteien inches
in diameter, encircled by a raised moulding, ornamented with zig-
2&g or diamond markings. In the same field, at a little distancb
from this, the labourers discovered a ^' kist," in which two persons
had been interred, having a broad flat limestone laid over it, and
which had been placed upon two upright stones at the ^ids, in a
manner similar to many of the tombstones in our church-yards.
About half a mile beyond the church at Aldingham, and close
by the shore, in a field adjoining the Moat farm, is a <miious earth-
work caUed the "MoatHilL" «'The word *moat' (says Th.
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Ingram in his kote to his description of Oxford Castle), ''applied
originally to the MooT-housos, or fortified mansions of the Saxons,
where they usually met on great occasions, has been latterly re-
stricted to the ditch only, which surrounds them. A manor house,
or court house, is in some parts of the country called the ' moot '
or ' mote.' This hill, as will presently be shewn, had no connec-
tion with the " folk-mote," or public assembly convened in Saxon
times for various purposes, besides, it is very unlikely such vast
labour would have been expended in so large a work, and in this
very exposed situation, when there were plenty of natural hills about
more suitable for meetings of that description. The " moat-hill "
is an artificial hill of considerable height, being ninety-six feet
above the sea level, and has been considered by several writers to
be of Druidical origin ; an exploratory mount from which to view
the coasts and bay of Morecam ; a beacon hill, whence alarm could
be given or received of any shipping on its first appearance in the
bay ; a mote hill for the Saxon lord of Aldingham ; in fact, various
uses have been assigned to it, which have no other foundation than
mere conjectura The mound is situated on a slight eminence,
and is a plain earth-work covered with grass, originally re-
sembling the frustrum of a cone, but now of an irregular
shape from the action of the tide, on the side facing the
sea. It is surrounded by a deep ditch or moaty twenty feet wide,
from which most of the material for its construction has been
derived. About one hundred feet distant from this is a long and
deep ditch, erroneously called a fish-pond, which some think has
been intended to surround the mount, but never completed. Fur-
ther below this, behind the £arm buildings, and the hedge which
separates the field from the road in the front of the house, is
another enclosed plat, nearly square in form, also sun-oimded by a
ditch, and on which, according to West, it is supposed the early resi-
dence of the Flemings, lords of Aldingham stood. This cannot
have been the case for more reasons than one. The Flemings are
Baid by West in another part of his work to have been compelled
to build the castle of Gleaston in consequence of their house at
Aldingham having been destroyed by the inroads of the sea, whereas
this enclosure is situated at a distance from the shore, and above
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high water mark. Besides, the fosse around the mound is so
insignificant, that it is extremely doubtful'if it were ever made for
the defence of a fortified building, and there is not the slightest
trace of the foundations of any edifice remaining, which may be
accounted for by the fact that most of the Saxon houses were built
of wood. If the ancient hall stood on this spot, it must have
necessarily been of very limited proportions. The surface of this
enclosure is quite uneven, as if it had been rounded at one time,
and what is very remarkable this small space exhibits the marks
of the plough. It is just as fair to suppose that this was another
tumulus of less extent than the one already described, and that
there may have been a series of them, for in Mr. Close's, notes we
read of several earthenware vessels containing human bones having
been found in the fields immediately adjoining. That the great
mount first mentioned is nothing more than a barrow or burial
mound there cannot be the least doubt, because by the direction of
the late Colonel Braddyll, of Conishead Priory, a small shaft was
sunk down the centre of the hill from the top, and portions of
human bones were brought to the light, after which they were
replaced and the opening filled up. The question of the original
purpose of the hill being settled, there yet remains the difficult
task of assigning to it the proper owner. Is it British, Danish,
or Saxon ] Mr. Wright, the learned antiquary, says that Anglo-
Saxon barrows are generally found in large groups or cemeteries,
and the mound which covers each grave is very low, though some-
times he says isolated Saxon barrows are found, which can only be
, appropriated by the Saxon character of the articles they contain.
Several of these were found in the Peak of Derbyshire, but they
are met with chiefly on elevations near the sea.
According to the same author, the Saxon barrows were of a
character very distinct from those of the Koraans or Britons, the
body most frequently was buried entire, cremation being a rare
exception to the general rule. " They were the prototypes of
modem graves in country church-yards. A rectangular cist, or
pit, was cut in the ground, varying in depth from three or four
feet to seven or eight, on the floor of which the body was laid on
its back in full dress, surrounded by a variety of articles which;
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no doubt, the deceased had valued when alive ; the grave was then
filled up, and the mound of earth raised above. This mound was
termed hlcew^ a hillock, the modem word low^ which is still in use
in Derbyshire, and heorhj heorg^ or hearw, a word having the same
signification, from which is derived our modern name of ha/rrow.
In Sussex they are still called burghs. Generally each grave con-
tains the remains of one body j but instances occur where more
than one body has been interred in the same grave, and under
circumstances which shew that they must have been buried simul-
taneously."
An Anglo-Saxon poem has been preserved, called the poem of
Beowulf, belonging, it is said, to this primitive period, a translation
of which in English was published in 1837. In this poem the
dying request of the warrior is, that his people should raise a
barrow '< on the place of his funeral pile," proportionate in size to
the celebrity of his deeds. '
Command the war-chiefs
to make a mound,
bright after the funeral fire^
upon the nose of the promontory ;
which shall for a memorial
to my people
rise high aloft
on Hronesness ;
that the sea-sailors
may afterwards call it
Beowulf s barrow.
When the Brentings
over the darkness of the floods
shall sail afar.
After the burning of the body had been completed, his followei's
proceeded to raise —
a mound over the sea ;
it was high and broad,
by the sulors over the waves
to be seen afar.
And they built up
during ten days
the beacon of the war renotmed.
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They surrounded it with a wall
in the most honourable manner
that wise men
could desire.
They put into the mound
rings and bright gems
all such ornaments
as before from the hoard
the fierce minded men
had taken ;
they suffered the earth to hold
the treasure of warriors,
gold on the sand,
where it yet remains
as useless to men
as it was of old.
(To he continued,)
^mMumm d i^mun.
A LEGEND OF MUCH URSWICK TARN.
By Mr, John Boulton,
There seems to be a piinciple in human nature which irresistibly
draws us to examine and speculate upon anything mysterious and
wonderful, and although we may persuade ourselves that we are
not superstitious, we nevertheless are apt occasionally to inadvert-
ently betray to others that superstition and a love of the marvellous
form a part of our character. Indeed, the element above indicated
pervades more or less every grade of society, nay, even the philo-
sopher and the man of science are not entirely free from its
influence, but it is most active and flourishing among the peasantry
of rural districts, where young people of a village meet together
on winter evenings to listen to some venerable father who is both
able and willing to recite all the legends and old world stories both
natui'al and supernatural, belonging to the locality.
Forness abounds with stirring local narratives, many of them
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bordering upon the improbable, almost every hamlet having its own
wonder, and even some of the halls of the ancient Fumess families
have a strange weird tale connected with them.
One has a couple of human skulls walled up in a recesa^ because
-when allowed their liberty they always found their way back to
the same place, even when taken to great distances ; another has
something equally remarkable.
In Plumpton Hall (the ancient seat of the Morrits of Bokeby,
but now a farm house,) may be seen at the present time a very
large antique brass-mounted lantern, suspended from the ceiling at
the foot of the great oak staircase, but hung so high that it cannot
be reached from the floor. It is gravely asserted that if this
lantern be removed away a hundred miles it will be found quietly
hanging in its old place the next morning, and unutterable woe
will flail upon the head of him who took it. These are some of
the mysteries of Fumess, but my business is not with them just now,
a place of great interest claiming my first attention as having
given rise to incidents and histories of even more astonishing
proportions* My earliest recollection of Much Urswick Tarn with
its mystic wonders and traditionary lore, dates back upwards of
seventy years, when I was a child of the age of five years, residing
near the northern maigin of the tarn, at which time there was
living at Much Urswick a very old man named Willie Waane, the
oracle of the village, who, it was acknowledged by all, knew every-
thing. I have still a perfect picture in my mind of this huge and
gaunt old man. He used to wear a home-spun blue duffle coat,
with large bright metal buttons, about the size of a crown piece,
the garment being the handiwork of ''Old Bill Ormandy," who
wiled all the males in the parinh. Willie's waistcoat had long
lappets, extending nearly a foot below the waist, and these had to be
lifted up before he could reach the pockets of his lower continua-
tions, which were genuine old-fashioned buck-skin leather breeches,
of a curious out, terminating just below the knee, where they met
coarse grey woollen stockings, with false heels to come over the
shoe behind. His splendid large feet were encased in shoes like
children's cradles, and a pair of massive silver buckles, three inches
by three and a half, nearly covered the entire insteps. He also
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wore a prodigioas cocked hat of coarse wool, turned up behind and
fixed with black cord, something like that of a high dignitary of
the Church. Old Willie delighted to sit in his old black oak arm-
chair, by the side of the tarn, near the "cootstone," almost from
morning till night, on a long summer's day, his eyes constantly
directed to the water. Sometimes he condescended to chat awhile
with the anglers who came to fish for roach (Leudacus rutUua) at
the ^' cootstone," but generally his mind seemed occupied with a
dreamy contemplation of the glassy surface before him, though now
and then he would be startled from his reverie by a tremendous
rush in the water, occasioned by the tyrant pike (E$(>x lucvua)
chasing a shoal of roach into the shallows, when scores of them
would leap out of their native element to escape from the ravenous
jaws of their dreaded pursuer. Sometimes he would find pleasure
in observing the gambols of a family of coots (Fuliea atra) racing
across the tarn, flapping on the surface of the water as they went,
half swimming, half flying ; at others, he would be silently adniir-
ing the beautiful white water-lily (Nymphcea alba J , with its snowy
cup, resting on the blue waters, surrounded by a splendid pave-
ment of dark green leaves, also floating, like a multitude of
green fruit plates, chained to the bottom by their long, round
leaf-stalks, which keep them from diifdng away by the waves.
Again the worthy man would relapse into his former meditative
abstraction, so that it is not to be wondered at, if old Willie Waane,
by a little stretch of the imagination, was regarded as the presiding
genius of Much TJrswick Tarn. Old Willie now sleeps quietly in
the parish church-yard, near to his own loved tani, and if this
eccentric character had been living in our day, I have no doubt he
would have been delighted by the Furness man's description of the
lovely lake of Como as nothing in comparison to our little inland
lake. Some of his stories remain, although he is well nigh for-
gotten, and of course we give the most prominent place to the
"Legend of Much TJrswick Tarn." TJrswick was once a market-
town, called "Lile Ooston," (the market cross is still standing in
front of the smithy near to Captain Chew's house,) and was older
than either Kendal or Lancaster. The inhabitants had everything
in plenty with the exception of a beck for their cows to drink
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from, which obliged them to provide limeetone troughs supplied
with water from the draw-wells for the cows and sheep. The old
women began to grumble sadly at this, as they were an idle, gossip-
ing, worthless set, and at length, declaring they would stand it no
longer, they all went to the priest and informed him that if he did not
send them a beck of good water for their cows, they would neither
oome to church nor confession as long as they lived, giving him
forty days to perform the task, otherwise they would stone him to
death, for they knew he could do it if he would. The priest was
a man of great sanctity and learning, who had made a pilgrimage
to the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, and to appease them he
ordered every woman in Lile Ooston to attend church next day, and
meet him in the grave-yard, when he would accede to their demands,
hut they must agree to do his bidding, or he would not only refuse
their request, but take away their weUs also. The old women
attended according to his i*equest, when the priest ordered them to
form a single line, and march in procession three times round the
church, while he prayed, but in consequence of each woman in the
place wanting to be first, none of them would submit, and they
immediately began to wrangle about precedence, the noise and con-
fusion of all talking violently together being so great as to be heard
on the top of Birkrigg : indeed a serious riot occurred amongst
them, and it was some time before the priest obtained silence,
though not without severe threats. When quiet was at last
restored, the priest formed the assembly into a circle, walking
blindfold round the ring first one way and then the other, and after
turning himself three times, he broke through them, deciding by this
trial that the woman on his right should go first, and the one on
his left last. Accordingly, they opened out into line, and proceeded
as the priest directed, every woman being discontented with the
arrangement, except the one who headed the procession, the rest
murmuring about the unfairness of the thing, and even insinuating
that she who was thus hououred before them all was a favourite of
the priest. This bare-footed company started from the north-
west corner of the church tower, just imder the figure of the virgin
and child, walking at a very slow pace the way of the sun, the
priest praying all the while with his hands above his head. After
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the first walk round, there came on a fkll of anow, and the old
women paused one minute before commencing the second, which
was brought to a halt on its completion by a tremendous storm of
hail-stones, as large as sea-mew's eggs ; the ancient dames now
rested while the holy fiither walked once round the church-yard
alone, and then they all commenced their third journey, which was
interrupted, after a few yards, by a dreadful clap of thunder burst-
ing directly over their heads, followed by other peals in rapid
succession, until the perambulation was accomplished, when the
earth trembled, and a rushing noise was heard in the west.
Immediately afterwards they saw a herd of cows fleeing before a
flood of water, which, rushing down the hollow now foiming the
boundary between the townships of Much Urswick and Little
Urswick, swept everything before it, and eventually became what
is now known as "the clerk's beck," or the priest's beck. The
earth had been shaken by a great convulsion of nature, which raised
up a hill near Lindale Cote, and changed the direction of a stream
of water near that place, this has continued to flow ever since
towards Much Urswick, and is in fact the present existing '' Clerk's
Beck." The gossips had now abundance of water for their cattle^
and were contented for a short while, until one day, after a storm
of rain, the water in the new beck became red with iron ore, and
although the priest assured them the cows would prefer it before
any other, and proved it by trying them with well-water un-
successfully, the female portion of the community disputed the
fact, and grumbled more than ever at the priest, before whom they
presented themselves, vowing, that unless he gave them clear water
in their beck, and plenty of it too, they would never enter the
church again. He informed them he could supply their demand
but it was a dangerous venture, inasmuch as he could not control
the quantity, and they might receive more than they liked ; but if
they persisted, he would give them such an inundation as would
satisfy them for a long time, so that they had their choice, whether
they would be content with Clerk's Beck, although it was some-
times rather reddened in wet weather, or risk the hazardous
provision of clear water he had mentioned. Wonderful to relate,
the old women were for once all of one mind, and when the priest
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Iiositated from rductanoe to agree to their desire, they taunted him
with want of power, and called him a poor helpless, impotent old
pretender, and not a true priest, and they danced and raved and
swore at him, and defied him to his face, one old hag going so far
as to say she could make a better priest out of a bit of clay.
Being now convinced of their worthlessness and depravity, he bade
them retire, every one to her own house, and after opening all the
doors and windows remain perfectly silent for one hour by the sun
dial in the church-yard, he would then try if he could not satisfy
them with water for ever. It was understood between them, that
a signal should be displayed on the top of the principal house, so
that in case they repented, they should signify the same by striking
their colour, but if it remained flying after the hour expired, they
must take all he had promised. They all left in great joy, sayiug
they had frightened the priest, and when they had secured the
clear water they would have something else. Following their
instructions, they displayed the appointed signal, which being
perceived by the priest he walked slowly round the church once,
and raised his hands on high, when a snow shower came on, but
the flag wasstill floating on the breeze, showing the determination
(^ the applicants for more water. The priest rested to give the
discontented women an opportunity for changing their minds, but
no intimation being given, he lifted up his hands again, and there
came on a fearful storm of hail as before. This second warning
was unheeded, although the priest rested twice as long, and turned
himself thrice round to give them time to regret the fatal step
they were taking, indeed, so far from retreating, the most turbulent
of the women was observed on the house top beside the flag,
defying the power of the priest to his face. At length turning his
back on the town, for he could not bear to look on what wovdd
follow, he gently elevated his hands — ^when an earthquake sank
the town in a moment— but even in the midst of this dire calamity
the stem old harridan before mentioned was seen standing upon
the roof of her house, snapping her fingers at Ihe holy father and
crying aloud for more water. Very soon all was over, and when
the priest gazed in the direction of the town, Lile Ooston had
disappeared for ev^, and its place was supplied by the tarn of
Much Urswick.
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The above is something like old Willie Waane's legenikry his-
tory of the origin of "Much Urswick Tarn," but he always
contended that the final catastrophe which sank the town of lile
Ooston, although accompanied by a terrific tempest of thunder,
lightning, hail, rain, snow, and wind, which entirely uprooted and
swept away a forest of timber trees growing on Birkrigg, yet all
was calm and still in Urswick churoh-yard, not even a blade of
gprass moved within the consecrated ground, and the sun shone with
unusual brightness there while all was dark as midnight around
it. Willie also maintained that this unholy sisterhood is not even now
absolutely dead, but their nature only changed so that they exist
under a different condition, and breathe through gills like the fish,
but cannot rise to the surface, and they are sometimes heard in the
storms of winter by the women and children of Much Urswick,
making most unearthly screechings, which prevail far above the
noise of the elements, cursing the old priest, and contemptuously
calling for more water.
Willie Waane said his grandfather believed that formerly the
old women were permitted sometimes to rise to the surface, when
they might be seen in a long string holding on by each others
skirts, and in this manner encircling the tarn in a rapid sweep,
half swimming, half fljdng, and with a velocity which would have
outstripped the utmost speed of the largest species of elk that
formerly browsed in the forest of Birkrigg — ^their first circuit
accompanied by heavy rain, the second by a fiill of snow fiakes as
large as the leaves of the service tree, the awfiil faces of the old
women dimly seen through the midst of them, and the third by
hail of extraordinary size, which being completed, they snapped
their fingers as if in defiance of the old priest^ and calling aloud
for more water, there was a flash of lightning, and at the same
instant a peal of thunder which violently shook the earth, and
before the vibrations had ceased the old women were at the bottom
of the tarn again. During this unholy race, the apparitions had
no power to break through the boundary of reeds mto the shallows
of the "lending," but were kept within the deep part of the
" bream " which falls there almost perpendicularly.
About seventy years ago, Kitty Couper, an ill-natured old
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nuBanihrope, lived by himself in a rainous antiquated tumble-
down house, surrounded hj delapidated out-buildings, the whole of
which stood on the land now occupied by the dwelling-house,
garden, and malt-kiln, of Mi*s. Neale, of Much IJrHwick.
Kitty had a legend respecting the origin of Much XJrswick tarn,
differing materially from that given above ; but Kitty, like many
others, believed in its unfathomable depth, and that the town of
Lile Ooston was sunk there by an earthquake, because of the
wickedness of a set of worn out old witch-wives, wl^o sometimes
turned men into dogs, pigs, or whatever they thought proper, and
he always maintained that the convulsion was a judgment, carrying
them to the bottomless pit in a moment, and he hoped all the
women in the world would follow. But Kitty, as I have ali-eady
stated, was a misanthrope, and a fierce hater of women especially.
Perhaps I may give his version of the legend at a future period.
In the course of time old Kitty came to his end, not after the
violent manner of the heroines of our story, but in a way we
care not to contemplate. About the time our narrative begins,
viz., 1795, besides the poor old misanthrope, Christopher Couper,
who lived by himself in the old ruin described above, and kind-
hearted old Willie Waane, who also lived alone in a small room,
part of the dwelling-house now the property of Mr. John Russell,
there were other characters worthy of notice : — Captain Chew,
who, like old Willie, used to sit quietly watching the tarn almost
from moiTiing till night ; Francis Stephenson, a gigantic tailor,
six feet two inches in height, and eighteen stones weight, who had
served in the first American war under General Burgoyne, and
was so proud of his commander that he hoisted his portmt for his
public-house sign, and although the huge tailor has long since
passed away, yet there still remains over the same house an image
of the General I am not aware if this bulky tailor ever smelled
gunpowder in America, perhaps he deemed it a greater honour to
lay down his arms and yield, along with the General and the whole
of the regiment, than to fight for King George the Third. There
was also one Richard Howden, the maker of cai-ts and wheel-
barrows for the parish, whose neighbours considered him " a varra
cute chap and a parlish girt scholar," for he could spell Jacob two
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diiFerent wayft These three gentlemen had a legend respisctiiig
Much CTrswiok tarn (of which more at a future time), but it was
comparativelj recent, for Richard Howden, their spokesman, was a
man of middle life only, and could not trace their chronology
beyond 1757 ; whereas, old Willie Waane, remembered the first
Scotch rebellion in 1715, and his grandfather, who was bom during
the protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, had seen King James the
Second more than once.
Having now given the legendary history of the tarn, it is in-
tended in a future number to describe its natural and physical
peculiarities from a scientific point of view.
fiKlttS.
THE DROWNED VILLAGE.
By the late Henry H, Davis.
Oh ! Urswick's Lake is bright and blue,
And Urswick's Lake is feir ;
And 'tis sweet to see how dazzlingly
Each star is mirrored there !
And 'tis glorious, when the full, round moon,
Has climb'd the heaven high,
To gaze iato that Lake's far depths,
As into another sky.
Down in a lonely, verdant vale,
Where rustic charms abound,
Its waters sleep all peacefully.
With hills encompassed round.
But the peasants tell, that, years ago.
In the time of the vengeful Dane,
A village stood where the watery flood
Now covers o'er the plain !
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When the Bun went down, its red light fell
On lowly roof and byre ;
And the solemn knell of the vesper bell
Peal'd from the village spire.
When the morning came, the bright sun look'd
On a lake's discoloured wave ;
For the earthquake's might in the dai*k midnight,
Had sunk that village so fair to sight,
In a deep and watery grave !
No time for confession — none for shrift —
No moment the beads to tell ;
The child slept sound on its mother's breast,
When that dreadful fate befel !
No warning voice — ^no wailing cry —
No bell was heard to toll ;
But they perish'd without a priest to say
" God's blessing on each soul ! "
On St. John's Eve there's a wondrous light
Shines brightly o'er the lake j
And men may see a glorious sight
If a boat they deftly take :
For lowly roof and tapering spire,
Their magic form display —
But at mom's first beam, like a pleasant dream.
They quickly melt away !
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§,tM( g^tttk^^atagjj-
THE ANTIQUITIES OF FURNESS AND OARTMEL.
Iktboductoby Chapteb.
Ik bhe charter granted by George lit. on the foundation of the
Society of Antiquaries, of London, the following passage occurs : —
" the study of antiquity, and the history of former times, has ever
been esteemed highly commendable and useful^ not only to improve
the minds of men, but also to incite them to virtuous and noble
actions/' A taste for the study of ancient and historical monu-
ments has lately become 'very prevalent, and it is hoped the
following remarks may give impulse and encouragement to intel-
ligent research into the antiquities of our own neighbourhood, so
that the ancient memorials of every kind distributed around us
may not only be properly appreciated, but receive such attention
as shall secure a vigilant care for their preservation.
The numerous works of ancient times which still exist here-
abouts, may thus be saved from general disappearance by decay of
time, wanton destruction, or accidental injury ; and nothing would
be so conducive to this object as a thorough understanding of
their interest and importance as national monuments by those of
the inhabitants who are at present ignorant of their value. In
the examination of such antiquities, when carefully conducted,
numerous discoveries will be made, and such a rich harvest of facts
reaped, as will yield substantial evidences of the true nature and
purport of remains which formerly perplexed by their antique
aspect.
Few places offer so many opportunities for the study of primeval
races as the -districts of Furness and Cai-tmel. The simple yet
enduring monuments of the early inhabitants abound in this
division of the county, and traces of their existence are distin-
guished in the cavernous openings of the limestone upheavals in
Cartmel and Low Furness ; on the lofty peaks and sloping sides
of High Furness, where the eye rests.
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" On many a cairn's grey pyraraid,
Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid,"
and circular enclosures mark the sites of a Celtic camp, settlement,
or sepulchre. In the lowlands and on a commanding spot where-
ever possible, may be seen the works of perhaps another age, the
earth-mounds of a race of beings who have doubtless played an
important part in the early history of this country, in their day
and generation.
These remains have as yet been very imperfectly explored, con-
sequently our knowledge of them at present is very meagre, and of
little historic value, being founded chiefly upon conjecture, tradition,
and surmise. Unquestionably and beyond all cavil, the best and
only way of arriving at a correct notion of the primitive dwellers
in any country, is to investigate carefully, and study intimately the
monuments they have left behind them. The intense interest with
which the study of races has of late years been prosecuted, has
led to highly important discoveries ; much information has been
amassed, and data accumulated, from which many comparisons may
be made, and numerous parallels drawn. Thus, the experience of
archaeologists in other places may be advantageously exercised to
elucidate and determine upon the probable uses of similar remains
hereabouts. For instance, the close connection which in the olden
time existed between Denmark and the British Islands, renders it
natural that we should turn with interest to the antiquities of
Denmark, and compare them with those of this country. In
consequence of the existence of relics of many different people
who have succesively settled in Britain, such as the Celts, the
Bomans, the Saxons, and the Scandinavians, it is necessary that
we should be able to determine with some degree of certainty, to
which particular race or period each monument of ancient times
belongs, rather than be content with the vague and popular term
of "druidical remains." The accounts we possess of the early
history of our country are but fragmentary, still, we may with
some advantage refer a little to these ancient records, and perhaps
find some assistance in unravelling the net of difficulties with
which our subject is surrounded.
Historians mention nothing about our earlieit ancestors, beyond
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agreeing that the aborigines of Britain, as they were styled by
Juliiis Cflesari were a race derived by emigration from the Gauls,
at least one thousand years before the birth of Christ Science
has of late years proved that several distinct races of people suc-
cessively inhabited this island before those whom the Romans
found in possession. The bones of human beings discovered during
the examinations of numerous barrows and tumuli of very remote
date, and particularly the skulls, show by their peculiar oonforma^
tion several distinct and well marked characteristics, indicating
plainly and positively that they are types of races who flourished
at different perioda Each race, moreover, had its particular form
of grave, as well as its own mode of burial, and the tomb usually
contained the implements of war, or articles of domestic use,
buried with the deceased owner, according to the custom of savage
nations from time immemorial. We find an allusion to this cus-
tom in Ezekiel, chap. 32, v. 27, ''and they shall not lie with the
mighty that are fallen of the uncircumcised, tohich are gone down to
hell vnA their weapons of war : cmd they have laid their etoords
Wider their heads" kc. The type of race was so well marked by
the bony structures removed from their resting-place of centuries,
that a classification was adopted to &oilitate future study. For
instance, round skulls invariably occupied mounds of certain form
and dimensions, and long skulls reposed in graves of other design,
while urns or deposits of calcined bones, representing a third class,
were as regularly intruded upon in other interments.
It is supposed that these people, whatever they were, gave way
in the southern and eastern parts of the island to an influx of
BelgSB or Gauls, who colonised the countiy to some extent, because,
the inhabitants, before the first invasion of the Romans had made
some advance towards civilization. The northern parts of the
country being less accessible, the natives subsisted we are told chiefly
by hunting, and their cattle grazed upon pastures unencumbered
by any of the artificial divisions which a state of cultivation nevet
fidls to produte. Their clothing consisted chiefly of the skins of
animals, and their dwellings were formed by the trees of the forest,
rooted in the earth, and enclosed by interwoven branches^ or
wicker work, *< which bat imperfectly served to shelter them
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dnriAg the Iloutb of repose from the oonflictB of the elementB."
Stone dwellings or winter huts have lately been found in Scotland
where the stones overlapped graduallj until they formed a dome,
which was half buried in the earth.
Diodorus Siculus tells us that their goTemmenta were free^
tliough monarohial, as was the case with all Celtic nations ; and
their religion, which formed an important element of the system
of government was DruidicaL Their deities, he says, were fikries,
human sacrifices were offered to them, and the eternal transmigra-
tion of souls was universally inculcated and believed. According
to Ptolemy, the ancient historian, all the land between the Tweed
and the Hnmber to the east, and between the Eden and the
Mersey to the west, was called the country of the Brigantes. This
region was separated again into smaller divisions^ and the people
inhabiting the district of which Lancashire was a portion, were
called Sistuntiif or the dwellers in the country of waters.
The first invasion of Britain under Julius Caesar took place
about 55 years before the Christian era, the second by command of
Claudius, A.D. 43, or ten years after the death of Christ, at which
time Taeittia informs us the Druids were burned in the fires pre-
pared for their captive enemies, their consecrated graves and altars
destroyed, and their rites and ceremonies abolished. We learn
from QiidaSf that after the landing of the Saxons, about the
year 547, a Saxon prince, called .ZBUa, conquered Lancashire and
the greater part of Yorkslire, and received the appellation of King
of Deiri. Further, Robertson, in his history of the Emperor
Charles Y., speaking of the Saxon occupation, says — ''The Saxons
carried on their conquest of England with the same destructive
spirit which distinguished the other barbarous nations. The
ancient inhabitants of Britain were eitlier exterminated, or forced
to take shelter among the mountains of Wales, or reduced into
servitude. The Saxon government, laws, manners, and language
were, of consequence, introduced into Britain, and were so perfectly
established, that all memory of the institutions previous to their
conquest was abolished." If these fragments of history are to be
relied upon, it will be seen that very great difficulties stand in the
way of determining whether the very ancient remains spread over
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thiB district are Celtic or not; if not» to what race they do belong.
As it has been already observed, the only way to arrive at any-
thing like a satisfactory conclusion is to oiganise a systematic
examination, and then by careful comparison with other similar
objects, a successful and gratifying result will be accomplished.
A clfissiiication of some kind will enable us to form a clearer
notion of the different local memorials of pre-historic times, so we
will take them in the following order: — 1. Cave Dwellings;
2. Hut Circles ; 3. Sepulchral Circles ; 4. Cairns ; 5. Barrows.
The first chapter, <*0n Cave Dwellings," will appear in our next
§m»i0ml §oUj$«
We have been favoured, through the kindness of Mr. E. Coward,
of High Ghyll House, with the following highly interesting addi-
tional particulars respecting Kirkby IreletL
THE DBUIDICAL CIBCLE ON THE HOOB,
or << Kiiksinkings,'' as it is commonly called, was, towards the
latter end of the last century, enclosed by laige slab slate stones
three to four feet distant. From the circle to the cairn was a
double row of stones, some measuring about 6ft 3ia by 6fl., and
18in. thick ; others 7ft. 9in. by 3ft. by 12in., and 7ft. 9in, by 4ft.
by 12in.
As no gunpowder was used in quarrying these slabs, it is impos-
sible to estimate the amount of labour which would be required to
procure such large blocks, and convey them upwards of half a
mile, including the transit of- the deep ghyll intervening. There
was another circle three quarters of a mile distant, sixty feet in
diameter, which from its elevated situation might have been a
camp, watch-tower, or beacon.
KIRKBY CHUBCB.
The inscription on the old bell formerly belonging to the church
was in hexagon characters, and underneath, hanging in a chain of
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hexagon links, was a grotesque figui*e having the head of a lamb
with the body of an ass. The church was pewed for the first time
in 1829, and the tower built in the same year on the foundation
of one that fell in 1657, when the bells were ringing for morning
service. At this time there were three bells, two ctf which were
broken with the fall, one of these was sold to Dalton and re-cast,
the other was re-cast in 1681 and placed in the turret along with
the one inscribed. The chancel is the oldest part of the church,
the^nave next, and the latest the Lord's chapel. When the second
part waa erected, the present door-case was taken from the west
end of the diancel, and placed where it now stands on the south
side; and there were two doors besides, one facing the rectory house,
the other the vicar's house.
The east window til] 1798 was of painted glass, and being then
in a delapidated state, the present window was put in at the
expense of the Dean and Chapter of York, who are the rectors.
Within the communion rails was a raised slab of red sandstone,
supposed to be the resting-place of Alexander de Kirkby, who
died in 1217, and was a great bene&tctor to the church.
Mr. Pearson was the first minister who died in Kirkby, and he
was interred in 'the chancel. Before the pews were put up in
1829, the Lord's chapel shewed itself to be the last erection. Up
to 1798 there was only one pew in this part of the chuixsh, and
in front of this was a fine carved oak screen, which concealed the
occupants of the pew from the congregation ; the remainder of
the chapel was occupied by a few tombstones of the Kirkbys, all
in black marble, except one of a knight in red sandstone.
WOODLAND CHAPEL.
The one built in 1698 was the first erection made by the land-
owners in that division of Kirkby ; a Stephenson, from Kaisth-
waite, in Woodland, being schoolmaster there at that time, and
whose descendants continue to reside at the same place. After the
chapel was built, he was appointed minister at five pounds a-year.
The following is the list of curates : — ^Stephenson, Go. Stoters,
Kendal, Sandwith, Gilpin, and Manclark.
I
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SBATHWAITB CHAPEL.
Mr. Tyson, the minister there, informed me that the " wonder-
ful'' Walker gave him the following tradition respecting the
erection of the chapel : — The inhabitants were conveying a body
to Kirkby for interment, in the depth of winter, when the snow
began to fall. By the time they had reached a part of the hill above
Newfield farm-house, they could go no further with the body, and
it was left on the common for a few days. After this they sent a
petition to the Earl of Derby (lord of the manor), stating tbe above
case, praying he would erect them a place of worship, as they were
a poor .class of people and unable to do so themselves.
Some years ago, Mr. Sawrey, in the course of a conversation on
this subject, told me he had writings to shew that an Earl of Derby
did build the chapeL I have no doubt but he will have the date
of its erection, about which I have seen many enquiries.
The five lines at the foot of page 54 would, in my opinion, have
been as well left out, as a widow does not forfeit the moiety of her
husband's estate on marriage, or breach of chastity, at least I do
not see a case in the court book for 120 years, either did I ever
hear of such a thiug from any old inhabitant. She had a half
fine to pay on mandage, but chastity is not mentioned.
It is the customary tenants who have the fine to pay on admit-
tance, not the whole, as stated.
In 1793 an agreement of enfranchisement was made between
the lord and the customary tenants. There are many clauses in
this agreement, but I shall only notice two.
First — All suits and services were done away with except
attendance once a-year at the Lord's Court £aron.
Second — The whole of the growing oak timber was to be sold
by auction.
Before this agreement, the lord, or a tenant, had the right to go
into his neighbour's lands and cut down timber by the payment of
2d. to the owner of the land, and 4d. to the lord, to build or
repair houses within tbe manor, but not to cut down timber in his
neighbour's fences.
By the proceeds of these sales of timber, most part of the cus-
tomary tenants bought their lands free (except metals), and to
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raise slate and stone for their own use, bat not to go into the lord's
working quanies.
A clerical friend has very kindly sent us the following corrected
copy of the Latin portion of the curious epitaph on the tombstone
in Broughton church-yard : —
FELIX, QUBM FAdlUKT ALIENA PEBICULA CAUTUM :
JAM YENIET TACITO CUBVA SENEGTA PEDE.
FBIEKDS, FABEWELL.
VARIETIES.
"From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
NoBTH Country Cheese. — There are two species, or more pro-
perly two genuses of cheese, which may be justly reckoned natives
of this country. One kind is called Lancaster cheese, from its
being regularly sold at Lancaster fail* — the other is termed Countiy
cheese, from an idea that every thing bearing the name of " Town"
must be superior to the country. Hence, as the best is called
" Lancaster cheese, " the worst is called " Country cheese. " A nother
reason may be assigned for this distinction : — Whatever is manu-
factured in the country is supposed to be more durable than Town's
work, though not so neat ; and " Country cheese" is certainly moi^
durable than ''Lancaster cheese,'' for some of it is almost as hard
as iron, and as tough as steel.
The Lancaster cheese is, impartially speaking, (and no person
will suspect us of speaking partially on the subject,) undoubtedly
the best cheese in existence. A glass of Kendal ale, a slice of
Lancaster cheese, and a sufficient quantity of oat cake is universally
aUowed to be the best substitute for a supper ever invented.
We cannot by any means allow that the countiy, north of
Lancaster, is incapable of producing cheese as good as the land
about EUel and Ccx^kerham. The difference arises chiefly, we
believe, from the management of the dairy. And this position
gathers confirmation from the fact, that many persons in the more
northern district are actually making cheese after the Lancaster
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pkn, equally as good and as pleasant. We know thatalaxge
quantity of Lomcaster cheese is at this time made in Wee^marUmd^
But many farmers are so wedded to the ancient custom of making
Flint cheese^ that no inducement can prevail upon them to believe
that human beings cannot digest iron like ostriches.
Our Southern Mends can form scarcely any idea of a g^iuine
"Coimtiy Cheese,'' manu&ctured according to the recipe of the
great grandmother of a Westmorland Farmer. It has never been
our fate to meet with any of these cheeses much harder than Buck
hom^ though we have been credibly informed that they may be
found of a more rocky consistency. In the edge of Cumberland,
where the husbandmen wear diogs, it is no uncommon thing, it is
said, to iron them with the crust of an old cheese. We willingly
confess, that we have never seen this use made of it ; and therefore
are far from affirming the r^wrt. We have been often amused
with the disputes of rustic philosophers whether it would strike fire
or not. And a blacksmith at Cartmel swears positivdy thafhe
once saw a cheese strike fire on cutting it up, in the usual manner,
with an axe. The following anecdote is often produced as a pro<rf
that this kind of cheese really will strike fire : — An honest Patter-
dale farmer was once going to Keswick fair with some cheeses in a
cart ; btit on ascending the rough jolting road out of Matterdale,
the fastening of the caa^j gave way, and the cheeses rolled down iiie
hill As they pitched from one crag to another, they at lengl^
struck fi/rey and kindled a large tract of ling, or heath, which oitr
informant asserts, burned without intermission for three weeks.
We shall by no means guarantee the truth of this report, as we had
not the fortune to be present ; we give it therefore as rumour, from
which some idea of these cheeses may be collected
Though the above story may be a little exaggerated, we can con-
fidently assert the following fiw5t, which occurred during the last
war. A soldier in the third Royal Lancashire, in one of his
marches, pilfered a piece of cheese from the Moor Cock, an ale-
house upon Bluecaster, about five miles from Sedbergh, and actually
used it ybr aJUnt for four yea/re after. What effect it had upon
the French we cannot say ; but a gentlemen of our acquaintance,
who has been residing some time in Paris, says, that he has often
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heard an old mutilated fjfens cT urme on ihePont iMfofy cursing ^^iA
d — d Venshingdale sheesea"
Another edition of the above story says, that the above cheese
was only used by the soldier as a sna^jper ; though he was often
reprimanded by the officers &r carrying a real flint in hid gun—-
the resemblance being so striking that they could not discern the
difference. He says he never saw it strike fire, but at the same
time he would not have ventured it with a priming of powder.
Either one or both of the above accounts is undoubtedly true.
We give these simple statements merely to shew our London
readers what hardy fellows we must be, considering what a diet we
have been reared with. — Lorudale Magazine.
Poetical Fiction, oe the Sublime and the Ridiculous.—
A young lady, ''the pink of fashion and the mould of form,''
having left the crowded salons and giddy round of gaieties of the
metropolis, sojourned for a time in our beautiful lake country.
Being one day persuaded to accompany a party of pleasure over
the neighbouring fells, she, in consort with her friends, came upon
a shepherd who was resting on a small portion of projecting crag
after counting and examining his flock. Our exquisite, full of
the romantic notions of sensation novels and drawing-room poesy,
immediately accosted the dalesman, under the impression that her
ideas of rustic simplicity would be realised by hearing a strain of
sweetest music under the charming influence of the surrounding
scene, remarkable for its primitive grandeur, and startling wildness.
"Pray, Mr. Shepherd, where is your pipe 1" (alluding to the iustru-
ment played upon by Arcadian swains.) The countryman, eyeing
his fitir interlocutor with unfeigned surprise, but unabashed de-
meanour, replied, ''me poip's e ma pockat, but ahve gitten nea
bacca,\ to the infinite astonishment and discomfiture of the lovely
maiden, and the intense amusement of her meny companions.
The fair tourist was shocked to find that the shepherd of psustoral
romance was a mere personification of imaginary attiibutes.
EPIGRAM.
Cum Bet, says Jack, let's hev a smack ;
I've langt for't boon a week. —
Here tak it then, ses Bet again ;
An' slapt 'im reet o' th' cheek !
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WAIFS AND STRAYS.
"When found, make a note of."— -Captain Cuttle.
Cabtmel School. — An extract from Bishop Gastrell's NotUia^
respecting Cartmel School. — " Here is a free School endowed with
£20 per annum ; with a public library belonging to it. The Gate-
house of the dissolved Priory was purchased by the parish and
converted into a school house, anno domini 1624. Anno 1680,
the school stock amounted to £900 : with £131 10s. of which a
close was purchased, called Middlefield : — £6 6s. 8d. was spent at
law ; and the remainder was put out at good securities. Anno
1689, Mr. Henry Bigland left £400 to tfie school, with which and
some other public monies, Clark's closes and Berwick's tenement
were purchased. Anno 1715, £10 was recovered for the use of
the school. And Mi's. Jane Bigland left £10 for an Usher. The
master is nominated by 24 Landholders, who represent the Parish ;
commonly called the Four-cmd-twenty, — Lonsdale Magcmne.
Whioham Bells. — It having been found necessary to make
some repairs in the fitting up of one of the bells in Whicham
Church, an opportunity was afforded of examining whether any
data were there afforded of ascertaining the antiquity of the
church ; or, at least, of the bells themselves. Accordingly, a
legend or inscription in Saxon characters was discovered on the
rim of each bell ; on the one taken down, as follows : — Santa
Maria ora pro nobis. On the other, which was examined with
more difficulty, the legend seemed Sancte Michael ora pro
NOBIS. The former requested the intercession of the Yirgin Mary;
the latter that of St. Michael, to whom the church was dedicated.
We are thus led back to the times of our Boman Catholic fore-
fathers, but at what precise period the bells were cast, or put up,
cannot be ascertained. In the former inscription, the letter C is
left out in what is generally written Sancta — ^probably by inad-
vertance, as in the other inscription it is retained Sancte. The
articles of our reformed church, it is well known, reject the invo-
cation of saints as "a fond thing vainly invented and grounded
upon no warranty of scripture." — Ulverston Advertiser y May,
1849.
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Ill
MONTHLY SUMMARY OF LOCAL EVENTS.
The Fjjj* of Rain in XJlverston, during July, was 2*96 inches.
The greatest fall in tw^mfy^bur hours pccurred on the 8th, and the
amount registered was 041 inchea
The Rain-Fall in Holker Gardens was 2*738 inches. The
greatest fall in twentj-four hours occurred on Saturday, the 28th —
the amount registered was '554. The number of rainj days was 1 4.
The temperature was highest on Thursday, the 12thy being 86®;
and the lowest on Saturday, the 7th, being 43^ During the night
of August Ist^ 1*134 in. of rain fell.
Oxford Local Examination. — From the lists just issued, of the
results of the examinations held last May, by the University of
Oxford, it appears that two pupils of the Proprietary School, in this
town have successfully passed — ^the one as a junior, the other as a
senior. The names of the two are William and George Postle-
thwaite, the sons of Mr. T. Postlethwaite, solicitor, of Ulverston.
The older of the two, William Postlethwaite, who was sixteen
years of age in May last, becomes, by the result of this examination,
an Associate in Arts of the University of Oxford. The Carbmel
Grammar School holds a prominent place also in the reports. Five
boys were sent up from it, and all of them passed successfully.
Their names are Henry Caddy (Primus), Greenbank ; Henry
Caddy (Sec), Rougholm ; W. S. Young, Kents Bank ; Joseph U.
Edwards, Liverpool ; and A. Webster, Kendal.
The Viper. — Mr. J. Williamson, in the service of Mr. Joseph
Shuttle worth, of Wateryeat, killed two vipers, a few days ago, and
after they had been dead a couple of days or more, he opened one
of them, and found it to contain ten young ones, some of which
were near ten inches in length. As many of the reptiles thus
brought to light of day were larger than some found crawling
about, the inference is that they have taken shelter within the old
one in the moment of danger. [The question of young vipers
taking refuge within their parent, is one that has been considerably
discussed by scientific men, and we must say the best authorities
are against it. It is frequently stated that parties in this district
have seen the young enter the mouth of the old viper ; and should
any of our readers witness this strange sight, we would esteem it
a favour if they would capture the reptile, and at once forward it
to us for examination. The subject being one upon which we
entertain grave doubts, we would like to set the matter at rest by
a careful Section. Ed. N. L. J/.]
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EcGLB8iA8iiCAL lNVBLLiOENCE.~The Hev. J. Allen, B.A., has
been appointed to the curacy of St George's, Barrow-in-Fume8&
The Rev. J. Irving, M.A., vicar of Millom, has been appointed
Rural Dean of Gosforth.
Human Remains from the XJbs Pits. — We, last months recorded
the singular discovery of a human calvarium in a deposit of iro&
ore, at the Ure Pits. Daring the past month we have received
some further remains from the same source, consisting of a right
clavicle, measuring six inches and one-tenth in length, the ridges
for the attachment of the muscles being largely developed denotes
a powerful muscular subject ; an atlas ; several fragments of the
base of the skull ; and a first cervical vertebra. An article on the
probable age of these remains will appear in a future number of our
magazine.
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Ws have received many encouraging letters from our friends in various parts
of the country, some of whom have been good enough to say such com-
plimentary things of our magazine, that we are determined to make every
effort to render it all we have promised, and we only need the kind help of an
indulgent public to sustain us.
In Older to ensure success, we earnestly beg those of our subscribers who
have aheady &voured us with their support, to introduce our serial to the
notice of their acquaintances, and endeavour to induce them to join in pro-
moting its circulation. Although we have been told it is a bold venture to
attempt to maintain a periodical of this class in the provinces, and in such a
limited district, we rely upon the homespun nature of its contents, the attract-
iveness of its local articles, and the usefulness of its compilations, to make it
a favourite among the educated and intelligent portion of the community, and
-secure for it a permanent position as a journal of intellectual research.
The North Lonsdale Magazine may be obtained of the Agents and Book-
sellers in the district, but should any subscriber prefer it, or experience any
difficulty or delay in receiving the work, he may ensure punctual delivery
by having it posted regularly from the office.
All communications which do not bear the real name and address of the writer
will not be noticed — this is insisted upon— not so much for publication
unless desired, but as a satisfactory guarantee.
We shall be happy to receive information respecting the past history of the
district old customs, remarkable facts, old local ballads, epitaphs, or any-
thing Dearing upon the plan of our work, whether quaint, amusing,
scientihc, or otherwise.
All contributions and articles for insertion should be written upon one side
only ; printers object to '* copy " written upon both sides of the paper.
The editor cannot pledge himself to return rejected manuscripts.
Printed at the *^Advertiaer'' Office^ The GiU^ Ulvereton,
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THE
AND LAKE DISTMOT MKOELLAMY.
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MORRIS, F.A.B.L.
No. 4. OCTOBER, 1866. Vol. I,
^0ml W0tthU$.
SIR JOHN BARROW, BART., L.L.D., P.R.S.
^ Seest thou a man diligent in business ? he shall stand before kings,"
" He claimed no title from descent of blood,
But that which made him noble made him good."->DBTDEir,
We hardly know whether to apologise to the general reader for
the manner in which we pmpose treating the life and character
of Sir John Barrow — or, to invoke approval of our intentions.
Whilst in the life of any man there are much of incident, of
narrative, of adventure, more or less exciting, we shall always find
there is some special lesson to be learned from that life — and, in
the case before us, in exhibiting those habits of industry, pei*sever-
ance, and well-regulated principles of moral rectitude which com-
bined to raise the subject of the present sketch from a comparatively
humble position in life to one of no inconsidemble exaltation, we
hold up for the encouragement and imitation of young men an
example of untarnished excellence.
Eloquent treatises have been written by accomplished writers in
praise of the age in which we live. 'Tis a wondrous age, especially
for pretence and superficiality. There is a sad lack amongst young
men of that cool and delibei-ate perseverance and continuity of
application so essential to eminent success. Ci-amming has taken
the place of acquisition. The want of the age is a royal road to
K
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knowledge^to Buece8s, to eminence. Men are prepared for
examinations at so much per head. They pass (so it is said and
written) the most brilliant examinations at the ripe age of nineteen
or twenty! At once they eclipse such javeniles as Sir Isaac
Newton, and having ascended like rockets to the astonishment of
every one— they come down like sticks !
Sir John Barrow was born on the Uth of June, 1764, in a
thatched cottage, of humble and unpretending appearance, at
Dragley Beck, which fronts the main road leading from Ulverston
to Bardsea.
The paternal grandfather of Sir John was an extensive &rmer
in the Lake District, and brought up all his sons to the farming
business. Roger, the father of Sir John, does not appear to have
ever occupied a farm on his own account — but was a journeyman
tanner at Dragley Beck. The cottage belonged to Sir John's
family on the maternal side, and there were attached three or
four small fields, a paddock, and that indispensable accompaniment
to a cottage, a small Jlower garden, which young Barrow cultivatedi
having, as he says, "the full charge of keeping up a supply of the
" ordinary flowers of the season."
Young Barrow entered Town Bank School when in his eighth
year, and was educated under the Rev. William Tyson Walker,
curate of the Parish Church of Ulverston. Mr. Walker was an
excellent classical scholar, and Barrow remained until he was
thirteen years of age, when he had advanced to the head of the
school. Mr. Walker was no mean poet, and being an admirable
reciter of verae or prose, he had a great delight in instructing the
upper boys to repeat passages from Homer and Virgil, and the best
English poets. Barrow, like most young men, once tried his hand
in the ix)etical Una The result was a poem on the Arctic Regions,
in blank verse, after the manner of Thomson's Seasons ; but as the
production did not satisfy his own critical taste, and, probably,
truly considering that he possessed not the gift of poesy, he very
wisely abandoned the muse, and contented himself with studying
the best poets, to enrich his mind, and refine his taste. How
many thousands there are who woidd do well to imitate Barrow !
Heaven does not send Stanyan Biggs into the world every day !
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Barrow was mainly indebted for hia knowledge of mathematios
to a perambulating professor, who used to visit the school for three
months every year. Under him he easily attained a knowledge of
algebra, fluxions, and conio sections. Euclid needed no master.
The first work BaiTow had to do in the battle of life, was to
assist Mr. Oottam, a land sui*veyor from Yorkshire, in taking an
accurate and complete survey of the Oonishead Prioiy estates. At
this period we have a pleasing illustration of Barrow's industry,
and his desire thoroughly to master every subject which came in
his way. He gained a practical knowledge of the theodolite, and
of the several mathematical instruments in the possession of Mr.
Cottam — so that some years afterwards, he says, '^ I extended my
*' knowledge of them, so as to di-aw up and publish a treatise to
" explain the practical use of a case of instruments, being my first
"introduction to the Press, for which I obtained twenty pounds,
" and was not a little delighted to send the first-fruits to my
"mother."
We cannot pass by this incident of filial respect, without a
passing remark. Its value and significance are, in our judgment,
much enhanced when we consider that the extract is made not
from a juvenile diary, which had been forgotten by the author —
but recorded by Sir John, in the decline of life, when full of years
and honour — in the quietude of hia own study, conscious, too, that
every line he wrote would be read by the most illustrious of his
contemporaries — and yet the anecdote is told with all the gushing
freshness.. and unsophisticated simplicity of a lad of sixteen. Sir
John's attachment to his parents was never diminished by reason
of his subsequent elevation. This is an honorable trait in his
chai*acter. Tis only low and vulgar minds that
"Flay fantastic tricks.
As make the angels weep—"
when the wheel of fortune turns up for them a glittering prize }
and, when bedizened with silks and jewels they afiect to forget
their humble origin, cultivating no feeling but the most supercilious
pride and ridiculous afiectation; intellect and feeling sepulchred
under gaudy decorations, as if they would extinguish all traces of
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their original poverty and nakedness with tinsel When the kings
of Madagascar die, they have to be immortalized by decoration.
During life, a state of semi*nudity satisfies their kingly propensities;
but, no sooner dead, no sooner rendered worthless, than the corpse
is apparelled, and the grave literally crammed with dresses, decora-
tions, and jewels, enough to enrich all the natives of the island.
Barrow exhibited no such absurdity. He consecrated the first-
fruits of his labors to lus mother, to sweeten her cup in her declin-
ing years. When last Barrow saw his mother, she wad blind. Then
he occupied a proud position in society, worthily achieved. She
could not gaze on that beloved son, in whose heart she had implanted
the principles of filial piety — they had borne their fruit. What a
beautiful domestic picture might be painted of the distinguished
traveller visiting his blind mother! "Honour thy Father and
Mother'' is a command which he who habitually violates, gives the
world the most convincing evidence of possessing a corrupt heart
and that) he leads a vicious life.
To return. Whilst at Town Bank School, Barrow and a few
other boys subscribed for and purchased a "celestial map of the
heavens,'' and he became a diligent student of astronomy. To this,
more than to any other incident, apparently of little importance as
it seemed at the time, Sir John traces, to a certain extent, his
future fortunate progi*ess in life.
Young Barrow could not be idle, and was constantly employing
his time in something curious or use^L In experimenting with
an electrical kitei, after the manner of Fiunklin, he got a bad name
from an old woman at Dragley Beck. The old lady, curious to see
what Barrow was after with his kite, the young philosopher could
not resist so tempting an opportunity of giving her a shock, which
so frightened her, "that she spread a report in the village, that I
" was no better than I should be; for that I was drawing down fire
" from heaven. The alarm ran through the village, and my poor
" mother entreated me to lay aside my kite."
Barrow was most anxious to extend his knowledge of mathema-
tics, but as he found he oould not get on without assistance, he
<< consulted an old farmer, of the name of Gibson, living in the hillfl^
'^ who went among his neighbours by the appellation of the un»-
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" marij on account of his profound knowledge" — he was a thorough
mathematician, made his own almanac, and calculated eclipses.
BarroVs parents were anxious to bring him up to the Church,
but he, though of a serious turn of mind, was indisposed for the
clerical office, and, though his prospects then seemed discouraging,
he preferred taking his chance a little longer, in the hope that
something more agreeable to his feelings would turn up. Some-
thing did turn up ; and he was engaged in Mr. Walker's ironfoundry,
in St. Thomas's Buildings, Liverpool, as timekeeper and invoice
clerk. Hei*e he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his employer ;
so much so, that) being in delicate health, he thought of tranderring
the business to his son, and making Barrow a partner. Mr. "Walker,
however, died, affcer a few days' illness, and the widow disposed of
the business.
The sudden and unexpected death of Mr. Walker having released
young Barrow from all engagements, he accompanied Captain Potts,
a relative of Mrs. Walker, on a whaling expedition to Greenland,
in the good ship " Peggy." Here he learnt to steer, to reef sails, to
make observations, take azimuths and altitudes, in short, acquired
all the tactical parts of navigation. - We shall see, anon, how useful
all this practical knowledge was to Barrow, when he became, in
after years, a sort of preceptor general to Lords of the Admiralty.
On his return from Greenland, after visiting the Lake Country,
his sympathies were deeply moved by the illness and death of the
worthy master of Town Bank. Mr. Walker was the son of
"Wonderful Walker," of Seathwaite, one of the peculiar notabilities
of the Lake District. Barrow's account of the funeral is worthy
of perpetuation. "Among others was present his venerable father,
"eighty years of age, who to pay this last tribute of affection to a
"beloved son, had come down from the farthest point of Pumess
" Pell, some eighteen miles distant * * * As this aged patriarch,
" with his flowing locks, white as snow, stood by the grave of his
"departed son, while the funeral service was reading, all eyes were
" directed towards the venerable form. At the conclusion of the
" ceremony, he stepped slowly to the edge of the grave, and there,
** with uplifted face and clasped hands, the tears trickling down his
"aged cheeks, was observed to be uttering a silent prayer towards
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" heaven. The impression made on my mind by this mournful
** scene, the loss of the son whom I loved, and the grief of the
" father, whom I respected, more than sixty years have not been
"able to obliterate."
Young Barrow was still without any occupation — ^he felt isolated
in society, hanging loose about it, and having no position in it
He thus argues : — " What profession could 1 take up, with any
** chance of success 1 The law 1 None but first-rate talents could
" hope to succeed in that. Physic ] Too late to begin the study,
" and the market overstocked — railroads had not yet supplied an
'^ accession of patients, and the only prospect was that of becoming
"a country apothecary. And the Church 1 Without powerful
** friends little to be hoped for beyond a curacy, which rarely affords
**food and clothing; besides, I never could bring my miud to think
" myself suited for the Church, and not having had the benefit of
"an University education, it was by no means clear that a reverend
" father in God would be found liberal and charitable enough to
" admit me into holy orders. I had, under my eye, in the town of
" Ul vers ton, a decayed gentleman, of the age of thirty, who had
"been refused by two Bishops, and, at last, ordained to a poor
" curacy in the north, by Bishop Watson."
Barrow never allowed despondency to make an impression on
his mind. He had habits of industry, a great desire to learn, an
ardent curiosity, and some few talents to turn these to practical
utility. His disposition was also inclined towards optimism, a
feeling that afforded him heartfelt satisfaction.
An offer was made to him by a gentleman, a planter, to super-
intend his pi'operty in the West Indies. Finding, however, that
the situation — ^though no doubt lucrative — was nothing more or
less than to superintend negi'oes, he says, ^^ Of course I declined U^
All honor to the man, who, seventy years ago, when slavery was
considered a component part of England's greatness, without which
its sun would set forever, had the boldness to shew the uncompro-
mising rectitude of a true Englishman, by boldly refusing to assist
slavery in any shape or form.
Through the influence of a sou of the " wise-man," he was
engaged by Dr. James, who kept a large academy at Greenwich,
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where he passed two or three years, veiy happily and very
pleasantly, and succeeded in making large acquaintance resident
in London — amongst others that of Sir Oeorge Staunton.
At that time Lord Macartney had been nominated Ambassador
Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the £mperor of China, Sir
Oeorge Staunton going as Secretary of Embassy and Minister
Plenipotentiary. Toung Staunton was to be of the party, and his
influence with Lord Macai*tney secured for our young hero the
impoiiiant position of Comptroller of the Household. Barrow was
in ecstades at the unexpected prospect of visiting the Celestial
Empire. Barrow, who was a very graphical writer, sketches some
of his companions. Colonel Benson (commander of the body
guards) was smart, correct, and active. Dr. Benson (physician), a
good scholar and Scotch metaphysician — but a very indolent fellow,
evidently hardly worth carrying to China* Dr. Scott (surgeon) was
a great reader, and an immense talker, and contributed nothing
towards elucidating the manners and customs of the Chinese. Mr.
Maxwell (private secretary) had no opportunity of displaying his
powers in any capacity than in the secretarial line. Mr. Hickey
(portrait painter) a muff of an artist, taken out of compassion. A
lucky dog, paid for doing nothing. Mr. Alexander (draughtsman)
drew beautifully some splendid delineations of Chinese scenery.
Doctor Dinwiddie (another Scotch philosopher) who went out as
an experimentalist to instruct the Chinese in electricity and in
flying balloons, but did nothing. Dominic Lee (one of the Chinese
interpreters) was a useful, intelligent fellow. Ko (the other inter-
preter) was blunt, dull, and dogged — of very little use. Young
Staunton made great progress in the Chinese language. Mr. Crewe
(attach^) was the son of the celebrated wit and beauty of her day,*
was a gambler, and a fast youth, and came to grief.
Nothing very special occurred on the voyage out, except that
greatest of all luxuries to some, a tremendous storm, which
honored them with a visit in the strait of Formosa — ^which
• Of Mrs. Crewe, Madame d*Arblay says— "She uglifies everything nea^
her. She was admired by the Prince of Wftles, adored by Oharles Fox, and
a great favourite of Lord Macartney.''
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Barrow doBCribes in the language of the beautiful Miranda : —
** The sky, it seemed, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the weUdn's dieek,
Paihed the fixe out''
On the arrival of the Embassy, they were most hospitably
received. The Chinese may be said to be "given to hospitality.'*
The first 'Hrifling refreshment" sent the Embassy — ^we suppose a
sort of limch-— consisted of four bullocks, eight sheep, eight goats,
ten sacks of rice, two hundred pounds of flour, and baskets of fruits
and vegetables. The second dose, by way of dinner, was, twenty
bullocks, a hundred hogs, a hundred sheep, a thousand fowls, three
thousand pumpkins, and about twenty thousand melons, apples,
pears, plums, and apricots ; vegetables by the ton, and nine large
jars of wine !
Barrow appears to have revelled in the glorious sceiery of China.
The presentation to the Emperor took place at Gohool, in Tartary,
one hundred and forty miles from Pekin. Previous to the pre-
sentation, it was Barrow's duty to explain the mechanical and
scientific instruments which they had taken out, to princes, man-
darins, bishops, philosophers, and parties of less importance.
During his stay in China, Barrow acquired a knowledge of the
Chinese language, as well as an immense amount of valuable
information on the "Garden of the World," and which he
afterwards published in a work.
(To be continued,)
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§iimx^ iB^np.
A CLASSICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL NOVEL.
By the Eevd. Henry Noel-Feam, M.A.; F.B.S.
[OONOLITDXD IBOM OUB LA0T.]
Passing on from the village, they came the next day to a large and
populous city, and after three days, Lucius, and the other animals,
whose appearance had been improved by rest and abundance of
food, were led out into the market, and sold by the public crier ;
onr hero becoming for sixteen denarii the property of a company of
fanatic priests, who used to place an image of the Syrian goddess
on his back, and proceed daily from house to house, collecting con-
tributions from the people. The account of tbe self-inflicted
p^iances of these priests, and their other doings, is full of interest.
But one night when they had been more than usually successful in
their begging expedition, and had indulged with more than usual
freedom in the wine-cup, their hypocrisy was so thoroughly mani-
fested,, and their orgies assumed so disgusting a character, that our
hero could not help expressing . his utter abomination at the sight
before his eyes, in what he intended to be words, but which was
actually nothing more than a regular asinine bray. But it so
happened that a party of peasants were passing the door at the
moment, in search of a stray donkey, and, fancying that this was
the beast of which they came in quest, they burst open the doors,
and detected the drunken priests in the midst of their bacchanalian
proceedings. Lucius, having been the cause of their exposure, was
accordingly visited with all the anger of the priests, and his life
was only spared not for his own sake, but for the sake of the image
of the goddess which he carried.
Leaving this place, the company now set forth for a very fine and
noble dty, where they were hospitably received by one of the
principal inhabitants of the place. There Lucius was in danger
from the cook, whose hauaoh of venison had been stolen^ and who
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was advised by his wife to replace it with a haunch asinine.
Hastily breaking his halter and hurrying to make his escape, he
was soon retaken by the servants, among whom, however, an idea
spread that he had been bitten by a mad dog and was suffering
from hydi'ophobia, and his life would have been sacrificed on the
spot, had he not succeeded in forcing his way for protection into
the bed-chamber of his masters, the priests. Here he was locked
in, and two guards were placed at the door to prevent his egress.
After a good night's rest^ upon a bed that was spread upon the
floor, Lucius was so quiet that they began to doubt whether he was
really suffering from the distemper they suspected, and suggested
that the experiment might be made of setting before him a vessel
of water, of which he immediately and copiously partook. This
satisfied them, and Lucius left the town with his masters, who were
however soon overtaken and led back, and cast into a subterraneous
prison, for stealing a gold cup from the temple of the goddess
Cybele — a cup which they swore, but in vain, that the goddess
herself had given to her sister, the Syrian divinity, as a pledge of
hospitality.
The gang of religious impostors being thus broken up, Lucius
was once more brought for sale into the market-place, and this
time fell into the hands of a baker. His duty was to walk round
and round in a mUl. His fellows in the service were a miserable
lot of weak, worn-out animals ; while the human beings belonging
to the establishment were dirty and stunted, weak, pale, half-naked
creatures, with their foreheads branded with letters, and their ankles
encompassed with iron rings. The master was a well-behaved and
tolerably good man ; his wife the most wicked woman in existence —
a cruel, treacherous, in*eligious person, faithless to her miserable
husband, a cheat, and a drunkard. She used poor Lucius most
barbarously. At last it reached this woman's ears that her husband
had procured a bill of divorce against her ; and she therefore betook
herself to a witch of her acquaintance, whom she bribed to do for
her one of two things, viz., either to soften the heart of her husband
that so he might be reconciled to her ; or, if unable to do that, to
bring about his death* All attempts to effect a i*e-union between
them proving ineffectual, the witch resolved to contrive the death
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of the baker ; and accordingly One day about noon, a half-clad,
bare-footed woman entered the bake-house, and taking the master
gentlj hj the hand, led him into an adjoining room, as if she had
some private intelligence to communicate to him. As time passed
and the baker did not make his appearance, and no answer was
returned to repeated knockings at the door, an entrance was at last
forced into the chamber, when they found the unhappy man hang,
ing quite dead from one of the beams of the ceiling. The body was
cut down, the usual funeral preparations immediately commenced,
and the corpse was carried to the sepulchre, accompanied by a large
concourse of people. The next day, the baker'H daughter by a
former wife, suddenly presented herself at the bake-house. She
had received no intelligence of the death of her father from any
human being, but yet she was perfectly cognizant of it, and declared
that the figure of her father, with a rope round his neck, had
appeared to her, and disclosed to her the infidelity of her step-
mother, and told how the witch had procured his murder. The
whole property of the deceased baker was, on the ninth day after
the funeral, sold for the benefit of the daughter ; and Lucius now
entered the service of a poor gardener, who bought him for fifty
pieces of money.
Although his new master, the gardener, even shared with him
his miserable meal, and gave him what shelter he could afford, yet
was Lucius soon reduced to a pitiable condition. At last^ one
rainy, moonless night, a traveller called at the cottage ; the gardener
gave him what reception he had it in his power to give, and the
guest on the morrow promised that he would give the gardener
some provisions, in gratitude for his lodging ; which provisions the
gardener soon after the departure of the stranger, set out upon
Lucius' back to fetch. The guest was a householder in a village
some sixty stadia distant, and the gardener and Lucius arrived just
as the family were about to sit down to dinner. Li the coui'se of
the entertainment a hen came running in from the poultry yard,
and squatting herself down by her master's feet, gave birth to a live
chicken; this prodigy was followed by many others, until the master
of the house and all his family were thrown into the utmost con-
sternation. A fountain of blood sprang up under the dining-tftble ;
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the wine, long stored in the cellar, became boiling hot ; the sheep-
dog opened his mouth, and out jumped a little green fn^ ; and so
fortL Overwhelmed with dread^ they had not long to wait before
they were made acquainted with the catastrophe which these things
portended. A servant arrived in haste fiom one of the neighbour-
ing farms, and related the following fearful occurrenca
The host had three sons, all fine, well-grown, and modest young
men. Olose to the farm which the three brothers inhabited, dwelt
a humble cottager, with whose son they had long lived on terms of
fajniliarity. Not far from the abode of the poor man dwelt a rich
iu>ble, who cruelly oppressed the poor man, killed his sheep, drove
away his oxen, trampled down his com, and finally raised a frivol-
ous claim about the proprietorship and asserted his right to all the
land. As soon as this was noised abroad, many of the neighbours,
and among others, the farmer^s three sons, met together, in order
to consult upon the poor man's case ; and, at last, they all went in
a body to the rich man's house, and demanded an interview upon
the subject. Upon his returning an arrogant and threatening
reply to the poor man's expostulations, one of the three brothers
told him pretty freely that the law would be found sufficient to
protect the poor from the wealthy oppressor; whereupon the tyrant,
losing all self-control, shouted to his people to let loose his dogs at
them. House-dogs aud sheep-dogs, great, rough, fierce animals,
accustomed to feed upon dead carcases in the fields, and worry
travellers in the open thoroughfares, now attacked them. The
younger of the three brothers, in his haste to fly, tripped over a
stone, and was instantly torn to pieces. Then the two survivors,
almost mad with grief, rushed upon the tyrant, one he slew
immediately, his long spear passed through him. But the remain-
ing brother, closing with his enemy, killed him with one or two
tremendous blows ; and then, while the attendants were rushing
upon him from all sides, to avenge the death of their master, with
the still reeking sword, he nearly severed his own head from his
body.
But the tragedy was not yet finished. The old ^Either, on hear-
ing of the death of his three sons, without a tear or a word, took
the knife before him, and terminated hss sorrows itnd hss life
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together. The gardener silently and in grief claaped his hands
together, and lamenting the fate of his host and his fitmily, mounted
once more upon Lucius' back, and returned homewards.
On the road an incident occurred, which again altered the
fortunes of our hero. A soldier met the gardener, as he was
jewing along quietly on his ass, and arrogantly demanded him for
the use of his superior officer. The gardener protested that the
animal was but a sluggish brute, and most civilly and submissively
entreated the soldier to let him be. However words came to blows,
and the result was that the soldier was left for dead, in the road,
and the gardeuer, instead of returning to his garden, betook himself
to an acquaintance in the neighbouring city, and begged for a hiding
place. The gardener was accordingly secreted in a warehouse, in
a capacious chest, and Lucius was taken to an upper room. The
soldier on recovering, also made his way to the town, and laid an
accusation against the gardener, of having found on the road a
silver cup belonging to the commanding officer, and desired that he
should be compelled to return the property to its lawful owner.
The house in which they were concealed was soon surrounded by
lictors and soldiers, and the magistrates demanded of the house-
holder that he should biing forth the culprit. The host, however,
vehemently denied that he was upon the premises, when luckless
Lucius, attracted by the noise to the window, put forth his head,
and the eyes of one of the soldiers happening to ikll in a line with
the shadow of Lucius that fell upon the ground, he immediately
betrayed him to his companions. The gardener was, of course,
forthwith dragged from his hiding-place, and sent off to the public
gaol ; while Lucius became the property of the soldier.
With his new master Lucius set forth upon a good road through
the fields, and at last arrived at a small city, where they put up at
the house of a decurion, or cavalry officer of i-ank. While they
were staying with him a dreadful crime was committed, of which
the following is an account.
The master of the house to which Lucius' stable was attached,
had a s<wi deeply versed in literature, and of studious habits. When
he was very young his mother died, and his father having mamed
again, had at this time another son of some twelve years of age.
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The Btep-mother, ho#ereri fell in love with her husband's son, en
hearing which the step-son fled the house. When this was reported
to her, the step-mother became as full of hate for her step-son, as
she had been full of love, and cast about for means to destroy him.
Taking an old slave into her confidence, she managed through him
to obtain from a physician a deadly poison, which they put into a
cup of wine, and waited for an opportunity to administer it. But
the younger son, the woman's own son, happening to come in tired
and thirsty, caught sight of the cup of poisoned wine, and
unsuspectingly drank it off. On the return of her husband home,
his wicked wife declared that the poison had been given to her son
by his half-brother, who had also made an attempt to assassinate
her. The senate met, the young man was brought forward on the
charge of having murdered his half-brother, and his step-mothei''s
slave bore very strong witness against him. But the physician,
happening to be present, altered the current of events by a simple
statement to the effect that he had sold the potion, but that suspect-
ing that all was not right, he had given not poison but a draught
to produce a heavy continuous state of somnolency, equal in
appearance to death itself He moreover declared that it was just
at that very hour that the effects of the dose would cease, and he
therefore invited them all to proceed to the tomb of the supposed
deceased, and examine for themselves. They did so, and the youth
just awaking from his trance, was received in the embrace of his
delighted father. The truth of the case was now easily arrived at;
the step-mother was condemned to perpetual banishment, the slave
crucified, and the doctor handsomely rewarded.
Shortly after this, the soldier having to go to a distance with
letters, sold Lucius to two brothers, servants together of a very
rich man, one being his cook, and the other the confectioner. These
two brothers treated their new acquisition almost like one of them-
selves, and as they used, every evening, to briug home dainties of
the rarest kinds from their lord's table, Lucius, as soon as their
backs were turned, did not hesitate to help himself to various
niceties, and soon began to grow sleek and improved in condition.
But gradually the brothera perceived that all things were not right;
they suspected each other, and almost came to a quarrel about it.
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At last they resolved to watoh; and pretending, therefore, one day,
to go out to the bath, they waited instead outside the door, and
peeped through a hole in the planks, to see who was the thief that
robbed them of their provisions. The secret was soon discovered ;
but the appeai*ance of our hero as he munched the delicacies was
so absurd, that, regai*dless of their loss, the two brothers called
together all their fellow-servants to enjoy the sight The merri-
ment attracted to the spot the master of the house ; he also put
his eye to the cranny, and "laughed until his bowels ached." So
delighted was he with what he saw, that he had Lucius conducted
into the supper-room for the amusement of his guests, where, by
partaking of things supposed to be most abhorrent to the nature of
the Jack-ass, and ultimately drinking a goblet of mulled wine, he
elicited a round of hearty applause. Their lord then bought the
ass of his servants for four times as much as they had paid for him,
and put him under the charge of one of his freedmen, who not oaly
treated him well, but, in order to ingratiate himself with liis master,
taught him many curious tricks. The name of Lucius' new owner
was Thyasus, a Loi*d of Corinth, who had come to Thessaly for the
purpose of purchasing gladiators and wild beasts for a show he was
about to give at Corinth.
His business being completed, he set out on his return home ;
and disdaining all his magnificent horses and beautiful carriages
and chariots, rode only upon Lucius, and affectionately conversed
with him by the way. At .Coxinth the people so 'crowded to see
the ass and his wonderful tricks, that Thyasus made a good sum of
money by charging a certain price for admission to Lucius' presence.
At length the first day of the public show arrived, and Lucius
had an opportunity of seeing a performance of the Pyrrhic dance,
and a dramatic spectacle entitled the '' Judgment of Paris," this last
being followed by the execution of a woman, who, for murder, had
been condemned by the Prefect to be devoured by wild beasts. Her
story was this.
There was a certain man, who, having to depart from home on
business, at a time when his wife was just abojit to increase his
family, left orders with her that, should the child prove to be a
girl, it should at once be put to death, — It was a girl ; but the
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mother not finding it in her heart to kill it, entrusted it to a
neighbour to bring up secretly. At last the child had grown into
a young woman ; and the mother having also an elder child, a son,
married, confided to him her secret^ and acquainted him with the
existence of his sister. He therefore received her into his house,
and ultimately gave her in maniage to an intimate friend of his
own. But his wife, not knowing of the relationship between her
husband and the young married damsel, grew suspicious, and at
last having managed to get the girl on some pretence into her
house, she unrelentingly with the most cruel torments put her to
death. Not content with this, she next resolved to get rid of her
husband, and succeeded in obtaining from an eminent physician
under promise of a large sum of money, a very deadly poison.
This the physician himself mixed, and handed it, in presence of
several of the relatives and friends of the family, to the sick man.
The wily woman, anxious to save her money as well as to
destroy her accomplice, suggested that she could not allow any
medicine to be administered to her husband, unless it was first
tasted by the doctor — the latter therefore, fearful lest any hesitation
on his part might betray his evil conscience, gulphed down a large
mouthful of the mixture, which the sick man then finished:
Hardly had the physician time to get home and to inform his wife
of what had happened, when the poison worked its result, and he
expired. The young man also, the husband of the wicked woman,
died shortly after, with the same symptoms as the doctor. An
interval of a few days having elapsed after the performance of the
funeral rites, the widow of the physician called upon the widow of
the young man for the promised fee. The latter appointed a day
upon which the payment should be made, but stipulated that she
should be provided with more of the poison. The physician's
widow, desirous of making the best of her acquaintance with the
rich widow, immediately gave her all that was lefb of it, of which
she made use for the pui-pose of depriving both the physician's
widow, who knew her secret, and her own little daughter, the
heiress of her deceased husband's property, of life on the same
day. The quick action however of the poison, upon the child,
excited the suspicion of the doctor's widow ; and finding the same
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symptoms coming on in her own case, she expended her little
remaining strength in running to the Prefect's house, and detailing
to him the atrocities of this infamous woman. No sooner had she
finished her recital than she breathed her last at the Prefect's feet.
The woman was arrested ; her servants put to the torture ; and
sufficient evidence was soon forthcoming to condemn her to the
wild beasts.
But while preparations were being made for her execution, an
idea suddenly struck Lucius, that it was quite possible that the*
beasts might even take it into their heads, after devouring the
murderess, to devour hmi into the bargain. Partly actuated by
this fear, partly with the intention of carrying into effect a thought
which occurred to him, he walked very gently to the nearest city-
gate, having passed this, he struck off into a gallop and went at
his utmost speed to Cenchroea, where in a sequestered spot on the
sea-shore, he stretched himself at full length upon the soft sand
and suffered his weary body to be sprinkled and refreshed by the
spray of the ocean. Almost the first watch of the night he awoke,
and dipping his head into the sea seven times for the sake of puri-
fication — ^in obedience to the precepts of Pythagoras — he addressed
himself in prayer to the Queen of Heaven. His prayer ended,
and overcome with a feeling of drowsiness, he lay down again and
closed his eyes Scarcely had he done so, when a celestial vision
appeared before him ; it was the Queen of Heaven herself, called
by many names in many lands, but worshipped by the -^theopians,
the Arii, and the Egyptians, who surpass all others in ancient
learning, under the true and proper denomination of Queen Isis.
The Goddess, in the shape of a divinely beautiful female, emerged
slowly from the midst of the ocean, and foretold to Lucius that
the day of his deliverance was now about to dawn. She announced
that on the morrow her worshippers were going tO dedicate to her
a new ship, and that in the procession at the solemnity he should
perceive a priest bearing a crown of roses attached to a sistrum,
which he should hold in his right hand, and that those roses should
effect his transformation to his natural shape again. She assured
that he was not to be afraid, for she herself, was at that moment
present in the dfertnis of the priest, and predicting to him that
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whioh was about to happen; finallj she told Lucius that she
expected him to dedicate the rest of his days to her service — ^pro-
mising him many blessings if he faithfully obeyed her injunctions.
On the morrow the words 'of the deity received their accom-
plish raent. The procession formed, and just at the close of it the
priest appeared, bearing in his hand a sistrum, to which was
attached the token of Lucius' delivei'ance.
The priest struck at the appearance, and evidently pre-admon-
ished as to what was to take place, held the crown close under
Lucius' nose. Whereupon, he says,
" My limbs trembled and my heart throbbed with lupid pulsa-
tion. I seized eagerly with my lips, roses the most beautiful and
brilliant, and greedily, most gi-eedily devoured them. Nor did the
celestial promise deceive me. Instantly deformity disappeared,
and I lost the form of a brute. First of all, my rough hair peeled
off in a continuous stream, then my thick skin became soft ; and
afterwards in rapid succession the size of my belly diminished, mj
hoofs disappeared and the soles of my feet, whence toes and fingers
sprouted, pressed the ground ; my hands, now no longer feet,
returning to their elevated position, resumed their pristine duties.
My neck no more retained its extreme length, my head grew
round, my face assumed human form, my great stony teeth were
as the teeth of a man, my enormously long ears shrunk to their
original dimensions, and the thing of all others, that with regard
to personal appearance, worried and displeased me most — my tail
was no where to be seen."
T\^ multitude, wrapt in profound astonishment at the sight of
a testimony so great, to the power of their divinity, poured forth
their gratitude to the Goddess for this signal mark of her favour,
then the priest directing one of the religious persons present to
cast his tunic over the shoulders of the naked Lucius, addressed
him in the following words : — " Oh ! Lucius ! tempest driven by
the storms of Fortune, at last thou hast arrived in the haven of
peace, and at the altar of piety, after the vicissitudes of thy long
and toilsome career. Neither hast thou hitherto been shielded by
thy birth, thy social position, nor the learning in which thou art
known to excel During the boisterous season of youth thou hast
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given waj to sensual pleasures, and thy ill-&ted curiosity hath
reaped its just reward. Fortune, nevertheless through her blind-
ness, even while tormenting thee with most grievous perils, hath
conducted thee, as it were with improvident malignity to a life of
religious beatitude. Let her now go her ways ; Let her rage ivith
her utmost fur 1/ ; and let her seek another victim for her cruelty T
This passage — *' Eat nunc, et summo furore sceviat et crudelitati,
8U0d materiam quoerat aliam'' — is alone sufficient to show that
Lesage, when he composed Gil Bias, had in view the Metamorpho-
ses of Apuleius. In addition to the coincidence of the cave of
robbers, the robber's narratives. Dame Leonarda, the captive dam-
sel, and her escape with the hero of the tale, being persons and
events introduced into both compositions, the above apostrophe to
Fortune is rendered almost litei*ally in Latin verse by Lesage. The
lines inscribed by Gil Bias about to devote himself to a life of
rural retirement, over the door of his house, are : —
'' Inveni portum, spes et fortana valetl
Sat me lusistis ; ladite nunc alios "— ( )
The reader of Boccaccio will also notice how much indebted he
was to the Golden Ass of Apuleius for many of his plots ; just as
Shakspere in his turn would seem to have borrowed from Boccaccio.
After this, the ship of which Isis bad spoken in the vision,
was consecrated to the deity, and Lucius returned with the proces-
sion to the temple. Many of his relations and servants, hearing
of what bad befallen him, hastened to Cenchrosa to see him ; but
after receiving each one of them kindly, he bade adieu to them
all, resolving to devote his life henceforth to the worship of the
Great Goddess. Constantly in his sleep he had warning from the
divinity bidding him to prepare himself for initiation into her
sacred mysteries. This step however, from reverential dread, he
was inclined still to postpone ; till at last one night he received a
notioe that a servant of his of the name of Candidus had arrived
from Thessaly ; and in the morning, some of his own servants
made their appearance, leading his white horse which he had ridden
at the commencement of his journey. Wonderstruck at this, and
considering the benefits which he was now receiving as the pledge
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of future benefits, he became more diligent tlian ever in atiending
the offices of devotion, and felt now a daily increasing desire to be
adopted into the holy ministration. At length the season arrived.
After ten dajrs' preparation he underwent the ceremonies of initi-
ation,^-of which ne was suffered to tell but little ; and a few days
later, by command of the Goddess returned hoDie. Arrived at
Rome, he presented his supplication every day to Queen Tsis, in a
Temple in the Campus Martins ; and at the end of a year received
an intimation from the same aivinity that he must undergo yet
another initiation, and make preparations accordingly. At this
Lucius wondered, for he had hitherto thought that he was already
fully initiated ; but he learned that his previous initiation related
only to the Goddess Isis, and that he was still insufficiently illumi-
nated in the mysteries of the Supreme Parent of all other Gods,
the invincible 0.siris. One night he dreamed that one of the
religious functionaries entered his house, seated himself in his
chair, and recited all the things necessary to be done, and arranged
for the ceremonial ; and the next morning after performing his
devotions to the Goddess, while carefully examining all the religions
personages as they passed, he beheld in one of the Pastophori the
very man he had seen in his dream. This man too, whose name
was Asiuiiis Marcellus, had also received a warning in a dream
with regard to a certain inhabitant of Madausa who was to be
forthwith initiated by him into the mysteries of Osiris, this was
then done, and not only was our hero admitted to the nocturnal
orgies of Osiris, but to those of Serapis also. After which he
took up his residence at Rome, where he followed the legal pro-
fession.
But a short period of time had elapsed, when he once mo^re
received another mandate from the Gods to make ready for a third
initiation j and was honoured by a vision of Osiris himself, in his
own proper person, who not only announced to him the future
glory that would accrue to him from his pleadings in the Fonira,
but nominated him a member of the College of Pastophori, and
enrolled him among ihe number of his quinquennial decurions.
Thenceforward, he says, " I fulfilled my duty as a member of a
most ancient college, that dates its origin from the days of Sylla ;
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lko4 with a bead newly and tliorougWy sl^aven, joyfullj exposed
my})ali pate to the gaze of the multittide whit)ier soever I weM"
So concludes a novel fuller of adventure than perhaps any other
yhich ever was written ; which has had many imitators, some
conscious, and some unconAcioua, and which fs entitled to our
res^>ect for many causes, not the least of which is that it is the
earliest Philosophical Romance.
f 0al W0^
GEORGE POX.
[prom "ROBY's traditions op LANCASHIRE.'*]
" Thou, who every thought pervades,
My darkened so.ul inform ;
With equal hand thy goodness guides
A planet or a worm.**
The supremacy of a special Providence, guiding and overruling the
affairs of men, is a doctrine which few will have the hardihood to
withsjband, and still less tp deny. It is interwoven with our
very nature, and seems implanted in us for the wisest and
most beneficent of purpeses. It is a doctrine full of comfort
and consolation ; our stay and succour in the most appalling
extremities. There does seem, at times, vividly bursting through
the most important periods of our existence, a ray frop the secret
place of the Most High. We see an opening, as it were, into the
arrapgements and councils of the skies ; we catch a glimpse of the
machinery by which the universe is ggverned ; ihe wheels of
Providence iare, for a moment, exhibited, palpable apd unencum-
bered by secondary causes, while we, stricken prostrate fi*om the
consciousness of our own insignificance, acknowledge, with awe and
admiration, the protecting power of which we are so unworthy.
Of the special interference we have just noticed, the following
narrative, true as to the more important particulars, is a striking
instance ; events, apparently happening out of the ordinary way.
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seem brought about hj this direct interposition, at a period when
the most eminent display of human foresight and sagacity would
have been unavailing.
One chill and misty evening, in the year 1652, being the early
part of a wet, and, as it proved, a tardy spiing, two strangers were
benighted in attempting to cross the wild mountain ridge called
Cartmel Fell They had purposed taking the most direct route
from Kendal to Cartmel ; having, however, missed the few points
which indicated their track, they had, for several hours, been
beating about in the expectation of finding some clue to ejttricate
themselves, but every attempt seemed only to fix them more inex-
tiicably in a state of doubt and bewilderment. A dense fog had
been i*apidly accumulating, and they began to feel something
startled with a vague apprehension of a night-watch amongst the
hills, unprovided as they were with the requisite essentials for
either food or lodging.
The elder of the two, though not more than midway between
thirty and forty years old, was clad iu a strange uncouth garb, of
the coarsest materials, and his lank long hair hung matted and
uncombed upon his shoulders, from a "brim'' of extravagant
dimensions. This style of dress was not then recognized as the
distinctive badge of a religious sect, as it is now, of the people
called "Quakers," or, as they are more favourably designated
*'Eriends." The person of whom we speak was the founder of this
society, George Fox ; who, about ^ve years previous to the date of
our story, after much contemplation on religious subjects, took upon
himself the public ministry. In the year 1650, he was imprisoned
at Derby, for speaking publicly in the church after Divine service;
on being brought before the magistrate, he bade the company
^Hremhle at the word of the Lord:" the expression was turned
into ridicule, and he and his friends received the appellation of
"Quakers."
His appearance was stout and muscular; and his general
demeanour of that still undisturbed aspect, which, if not one of the
essentials of his own religion, is, at least, looked upon as its greatest
ornament, betokening the inward grace of a meek and quiet spirit.
<<He was^" says John Gough, the historian of this people^ "a man
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of strong natural parts, firm health, undaunted courage, remarkable
disinterestedness, inflexible integrity, and distinguished sincerity.
The tenor of his doctrine, when he found himself concerned to
instruct others, was to wean men from systems, ceremonies, and
the outside of religion in every form, and to lead them to an
acquaintance with themselves, by a most solicitous attention to
what passed in their own minds ; to direct them to a principle of
their own hearts, which, if duly attended to, would introduce
rectitude of mind, simplicity of manners, a life and conversation
adorned with every Christian virtue, and peace the effect of righte-
ousness. Drawing bis doctrine from the pure source of religious
truth, the New Testament, and the conviction of his own mind,
absti-acted from the comments of men, he asserted the freedom
of nian in the liberty of the Gospel, against the tyranny of
custom, and against the combined powers of severe persecution,
the greatest contempt, and keenest ridicule. Unshaken and
undismayed, he persevered in disseminating principles and practices
conducive to the present and everlasting well-being of mankind,
with great honesty, simplicity, and success."
The companion of this refonner was arrayed in a more worldly
suit ; a mulberry coloured cloak and doublet^ with a hat of grey
felt, that, for brevity of brim, would almost have vied with that of
the brass basin worn by the knight of the ruefril countenance, whose
history may be considted at length in the writings of the vemcious
historian Don Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. His movements
were of a more irregular and erratic nature than comported with
the well-ordered and equable gait of his companion. The miely
occurring remarks of the latter were anything but explicit as to
the state of his feelings in contemplation of an event, the posi>il>ility
of which increased with every step, — ^a nigiit's lodgings in t^.ese
inhospitable wilds. The sun was now evidently beneath the
horizon i darkness Came OH with frightful rapidity ; and they had,
as jet, no reason to divest themselves of so disagreeable an antici-
pation. To one in the full glare of daylight, or with a sound roof-
tree over his head, and a warm fire at his elbow, the idea of a
night-vigil may not appear either unpleasant or extraordinary; but,
wrapped in a sheet of grey mist, the wet heath oozing beneath his
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feet, with the cold and benumbing air of the hills for his sapper,
there could be little question that he would be apt to regard it as
a condition not far removed from the extremity of human suflfer-
ing ; especially if at the same time he had just exchanged a snug
fireside, and an affectionate neighbourhood of friends, for these
appalling discomforts.
" I know not what we shall do," said the younger traveller. " It
never entered into my head, beforehand, to imagine the possibility
of such an event. Surely, — surely, — we are not to live through a
whole night in these horrid wilds. Pray, do speak out; and
let me, at least, have the comfort of a complaint, for we are past
consolation."
"I have been ruminating on this very matter," replied the
other ; " and it does appear that we are as safe in this place, verily,
as though we were encompassed with walls and bidwarks, Me-
thinks, friend, thou speakest unadvisedly ; in future, when thee
knowest not what to do, — wait ! The more thee pxdls and hauls,
and frets and kicks, depend on it, thou wilt be less able to extricate
thyself thereby. We are not left quite without comfort in this*
dreary wilderness ; here is a goodly and a well-set stone, I perceive,
just convenient. Verily, it is a mercy if we get a little rest for
our limbs. Many a meek and holy disciple, of whom the world
was not worthy, has, ere now, been fain of a slice of hard rock for
his pillow."
" And, in truth, we are as likely as the holiest of 'em to refresh
ourselves all night on a stone bolster," pettishly replied the un-
thankful youth as he seated himself beside his friend.
It was not long ere a slight breeze began to roll the mist into
irregular masses of cloud. The dense atmosphere appeared to
break, and a star twinkled, for a moment, but disappeared as sud-
denly as it came forth. Ralph Seaton, the younger of the pedes-
trians, pointed out the friendly visitant to his companion. It
seemed as though the eye of mercy were beaming visibly upon
them.
" I have seen it," said the man of endumnce, " and now gird
up thy loins to depart The fog will i*apidly disperse ; and it may
be that some distant light will guide us to rest and shelter."
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While ^e was speaking, the mist coiled upwards, driving rapidly
across the sky in the shape of a heavy scud. A few stars twinkled
here and there through the lucid intervals, '*few and far between;"
but they were continually changing place, closing and unfolding^
as the wind mingled or separated their shapeless fragments.
« It is even as I said. Seest thou yonder light T'
<<I see not anything," replied Seaton.
" Just beneath that bright star to our left)" again inquired the
elder traveller.
<< I only see a dark hill rising there abruptly against the lowering
swell of the sky."
Our *^ Friend" was silent for a space, when he replied, in a tone
of deep solemnity, —
'' It is the inward light of which I have spoken to thee before ;
a token of no ordinary import To-night, or I am deceived, we are
called on to pass through no common allotment of toil and tribula-
tion. Oft hath this light been outwardly manifest, and as often
has it been the precursor of some sharp and fiery trial ! Again !
But thou seest it not. Yet mayest thou follow in my steps. Take
heed thou turn not either to the right hand or to the left. But — "
The speaker's voice here grew fearfully ominous and emphatic.
" Hast thou courage to do as I shall bid thee 1 I must obey the
will of the spirit ; but unless thou hast faith to follow the light
that is within me, rather pass the night on that cold unsheltered
rock, than dmw back from his witness. Hemember, it is no slight
peril that awaits us."
Not wiihout a struggle and certain waverings, which indicated
a faith somewhat less implicit than was desinible on such an
occasion, did the disciple promise to obey, ay, to the very letter, —
every command that might be given. Peradventure, a well-founded
apprehension of spending the night companionless on the cold and
wet dormitory to which his evil stars had conducted him, had some
influence in this determination. Suffice it to say, never did disciple
resolve more faithfully to obey, than did our young adventurer in,
this perilous extremity. Their path now appeared to wind pre-
cipitately down a steep aud narrow defile, thi*ough which a rapid
torrent was heard foaming and tumbling over its rugged bed.
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Following the coarse of the stream to a coiisiderable distance, a
rude bridge was discerned, sufficiently indicating a path to some
house or village in that dii*ection. The wind was rising in sharp
and heavy gusts. The moon, not yet above the hills, was brighten-
ing the dark clouds that hung behind them, like a huge curtain.
The sky was studded, in beauteous intervals, with hosts of stars.
This light enabled them to follow a narrow footpath, which, abruptly
turning the head of a projecting ci'ag, showed them a distant glim-
mer, as though from some fiiendly habitation. Seatou bounded
past his more recondite companion ; and it was not long ere a fierce
growl challenged him, as he approached nearer to the dwelling. He
threw open the door, and discovered what was sufficiently distin-
guishable as a public house, a homely interior, dignified by the
name of tavern. Two grim looking men sat before a huge pile of
turf, glowing fiercely from the wide expanse appropriated to several
uses beside that of fire-place and chimue^. Liquor and coarse
bread were near them, on a low three-legged table ; while Seaton,
overjoyed at his good fortune and happy escape, thought the rude
hut a palace, and the smell of turf and oat-cake a refection fit for
the gods.
" Be quiet, Vixeu." The fierce animal, at this rebuke from her
mistress, slunk into a dark comer, beside the chimney, whence two
hideous and glaring eyes were fixed on the strangers for the rest of
the evening. Wherever Seaton turned, he still beheld them,
intently watching, as though gloating on their prey. The female
who had thus spoken, did not welcome her guests with that cheer-
ful solicitude which the arrival of profitable customers generally
creates. She bustled about unceasingly; but showed neither
anxiety nor inclination to offer them any refreshment. Short and
firm -set in person, she looked more muscular than was befitting her
sex. Her hair was grizzled, and the straggling tresses hung
untrammelled about her smoke-dried and hard-lined visaga * Her
features wore a dubious and unpleasant aspect, calculated to create
more distrust than seemed desirable to their owner. Every effort,
however, to disguise their expression, only rendered them the more
forbidding and repulsive.
Near the turf-stack, by the chimney, sat a beiiig, to all appeais
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ance in a state of mental derangement, almost approaching to idiotcy.
His eyes rested for a moment, with a vacant and undefined ^tare,
upon the strangers; then with a loud shrill ^ugh, which made the
listeners shudder, he again bent his head, basking moodily before
the blaze. The moment Seaton had thrown down a light portman-
teau that he carried, the dame, with a low tap, summoned two stout
fellows from an inner room, who, with a suspicious and over-acted
civility, inquired the destination and ¥rishe8 of their guests. The
elder of the travellers, now coming forward as spokesman, inquired
about the probability of obtaining lodgings for the night, and was
informed that a room detached from the rest, was generally used as
a guest-chamber on all extiti occasions.
'* There's a bed in't fit to streek down the limbs of a king,'' said
one of the gruff helpers ; '* and may be the gentlemen will sleep as
sound here as they could wish. Rabbit thee, Will, but the luggage
will break thy back. Have a care, lad, let me feel : ifs as light as
a church poor's-box. The de'il's flown awa' with aw the shinei's,
I think ; for it's lang sin' I heanl a good ow'd-fashioned jink in a
traveller's pack."
This was said more by way of comment than conversation, as
he handled the Htranger's valise.
The features of these men exhibited a strange mixture of ferocity
and mirth. Savage and almost brutal in their expression, still an
atmosphere of fun hovered about them, — a Will-o'-th'-wisp sort of
playfulness, unnatural and decoying, like the capricious gambols of
that renowned and mischievous sprite.
The Quaker seated himself on a low bench before the fire. He
took from his neck a huge handkerchief, spreading it out on his
knees. He then drew oft a pair of long worsted stocking-boots ;
leisurely untied his shoes, and, extending his ample surface, in the
most convenient manner, to the blaze, appeared, with eyes half-
shut, pondering deeply some inward abyss of thought, yet not wholly
indifferent to the objects around him. His tall and bony figure
looked more like some stiff and imitative piece of mechanism, than
a living human frame with flexible articulations, so fashioned was
every motion of the body to the formal and constrained habits and
peculiarities of the mind. Seaton had observed, with no slight
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uneaainess, the suspicious circumstances in which they were placed ;
but he was fearful of betraying his mistrust, lest it should accelerate
the mischief he anticipated. He looked wistfully at his friend ; but
there was no outward manifestation that could elucidate the inward
bent of his thoughts. The keen expression of his eye was not
visible ; but^his other features wore that imperturtable and stolid
aspect, which suited the stiff and unyielding substance of his
opinions. Seaton was now reminded of his supper, by an inquiry
from the female as to their intentions on this momentous subject.
A " flesh pye/' as she termed it, was drawn from its lair, — a dark
hole used as a cupboard, — ^and set before the guests. The very
name sounded suspicious and disgusting. In the present state of
his feelings, the most trivial circumstance was sufficient to keep
alive the apprehensions than haunted him. He endeavoured to
rally himself out of his fears, and had in some measure succeeded,
thrusting his kuife deep into the forbidding envelope. At that
moment a slight rustling caused him to look asida The idiot was
gazing on him. He shrunk from this unexpected glance ; and the
knife loosened in his grasp. He thought the creature made a sign
with his finger, forbidding him to eat. It might be fiemcy ; but
nevertheless he felt determined not to touch the food, and the
former, with that natural cunning which, in chai-acters of this
description, almost assumes the nature of instinct, again appeared
crouching over the blaze, and incapable either of observation or
intelligence. This transaction passed unnoticed by the rest of the
party ; and Seaton, afraid that some horrible and unnatural food
had been set before him, secretly motioned to his friend, who,
apparently unheeding, helped himself to a portion of the mysterious
dish. For a moment it occurred to Seaton that the cunning half-
wit, apprehensive lest too great a share of the savoury victuals
should faU to their lot, had contrived to forbid this appropriation.
After a few mouthfuls, however, he observed that his friend had as
little relish for the provision as himself, remarking that a rasher of
bacon would be preferred, if the hostess could furnish him with
this delicacy. A whisper was the result of this request ; but in the
end a savoury collop was sut upon the table. Beer was a4.ded, as
a matter of course ; but neither partook of the beverage. !J?hough
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Seaton, to all appearance, drank a portion, yet his fears got the
better of his fetigiie, and some apprehension of treachery made him
careful to convey away the liquor unobserved. Fox now drew up
his gaunt figure in the attitude which indicated a change of position.
With great deliberation he rose, and addressed the hostess, —
" Canst thee show us to bed V*
Answering in the affirmative, she snatched up a light, and
leading the way across a narrow yard, she pointed out a small step
ladder outside the building. Giving the candle into the hands of
the grave personage who followed her, she left them, after bidding
"Goodnight."
(To be concltbded in our next,)
URSWICK TARN.
By Mr, John BovMon.
We have already detailed in our last number, one or two of the
principal legends respecting the origin of Much Urswick Tarn ;
and, although these stories are of a wild and romantic character,
and utterly unfit for the present generation, they were almost
universally believed i^ 70 or 80 years ago.
I do not in this article presume to account for the origin of the
tarn, but to give the result of some observations and experiments
which have a direct bearing on its physical history at the present
day.
It is a remarkable circumstance that tales of romance and super-
stition, which have often been repeated, can never be entirely
erased from the memory of a child, but will continue to cling to
the individual even to extreme old age.
The tales I listened to about the wonderful " bottomless tarn "
of Much Urswick, are still fresh in my mind as when they were
first told, although I was then but a child of five yeai-s of age,
and created in me a strong desire to know more about its wonders,
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and to prove its depth by ** soundings/' when a favourable oppor-
tunity should offer itself for that purpose.
Much Urswick Tarn, even when divested of its accompaniments
of mystery and romance, may still be considered a place of more
than ordinary interest ; its physical history differs materially from
that of any lake or tarn in the north of England, and affords a
valuable lesson to the naturalist, but more especially to the student
in geology. However, it would be idle to speculate in any way on
its origin, and still more so to entertain or believe any part of the
wild legends respecting it, which have been given in the former
part of this article.
The tarn of Much Urswick is situated in a deep " basin," three
miles south of XJlverston, bounded on the north and west by the
village ; and open to the south, whence its outlet takes the same
direction, and after a junction with the stream from Mere tarn
and the splendid springs of Gleaston Castle, passes through the
village of Gleaston, and falls into Morecambe Bay at Leonard
Hill, near Beckside.
In form it iis an elongated oval, 412 yards in length, and 200 yards
in breadtL It is the property of the Duke of Devonshire, and
covers an area of 14a. Ir. 12p. The tarn is almost completely
encircled by a thick belt of reeds (PhragpiUeaJ, flags (^IrisJ,
bullrushes (CyperaceceJ, <fec., es^cept at the "coot-stone," where is
an open space 10 or 15 yards in width, and the north-west portion
of the tarn for about half an acre is flagged on the surface of the
water with broad green circular leaves, and the beautiful pearl
white cups of the water lily (Nymphea alba). There is only one
inlet or '* feeder" to the tarn, viz., the " Clerk's Beck." This
inlet is forming an interesting delta of fine red mud where it enters
the tarn, and illustrates in a beautiful manner (on a small scale)
the formation of the great deltas of the Ganges, Mississippi,
Nile, <fec.
Having been engaged several for months under the Commis-
sioners for the Commutation of Tithes in England and Wales, in
a survey of the parish of Urawick, and having had a strong desire
for many years to know more of this mysterious tarn, I established
fixed marks, or " stations," all round the tarn, which could be
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refen*ed to at any time, bo that when a favourable opportunity
offered I should be enabled not only to take soundings in any part
I desired, but also to put the depths of the several soundings on
the map of the tarn in their true relative positions.
In the winter of 1852-3, there occurred several days and nights
in succession of hard frost ; the tarn was covered entirely with clear
smooth ice ; the boys of Ulverston and Urawick quickly brought
out their skates, but some of them required new straps, others
-wanted grinding, others the wooden skate soles were entirely
"worm-eaten, and many a father and mother will remember how
humbly they were entreated to buy their sons new patent skates.
At this time, George Kirkby, a mysteiious little joiner and skate
grinder (and one who dealt largely in romance), had to work almost
night and day repairing skates, and I was also busy preparing
apparatus for sounding the tarn, and while doing so had to visit
his shop once or twice for that purpose. In a conversation with
Creorge about the tarn, he said, — " Ye'U find it a queer spot, for I
assuer ye thair is weed in Girt Ossik Tarn beath thicker an' langer
that t' biggest tree i' Bardsa Park." However, I became furnished
^th a long nautical sounding weight, one inch in diameter, hol-
lowed out at the bottom into a sort of cup, and filled with tallow,
to shew what sort of material was at the bottom of the tarn ; also
a brace and a nine-eighth brace-bit, to bore holes through the ice ;
and that I might not be short of sounding line, I provided myself
with 2,000 feet of very fine and strong whipcord, and furnished
with these and my " field-book " for registering the depths of the
different places sounded, I proceeded to Urswick, where I found
several young men and boys displaying their graceful evolutions
on the tarn, before the ice was perfectly safe for skating ; and as
soon as I made my appearance on the ice for the purpose of boring
it with my brace and bit, although I assured them it would
not spoil their skating, as the holes would freeze over in an hour,
yet these thoughtless young men clustered round me like bees,
with the intent to break the ice, but I had the presence of mind
to move quickly off the deep water, or the consequence might have
been lamentable j however, nothing serious happened, yet one
forward young gentleman will long remember the wetting he got
on that occasion.
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After this mischance, T waited three or four days, the frost still
continuing, the ice was then perfectly safe, and I was allowed to
proceed with my soundings without opposition, although the same
young men were again displaying their skill on the ice, — ^their
performance was admirable, and T was highly pleased with it.
My first sounding operation was to establish a straight line
across the tarn, about 80 yards from the north end, and from a
fixed point on the west side to another on the east side, to bore
holes through the ice at equal distances one from another, register-
ing the depth at every place, then to move southward about 80
yards more, and from a fixed point on the west side, extend a line
to a station on the east, and bore four holes at equal distances as
before ; afterwards a third and a fourth line, so as to have sixteen
places for soundings, by which operation the tarn was divided into
twenty nearly equal portions.
I then tried the depth of the water at No. 1 hole, with my 2,000
feet line, but I was rather disappointed when the lead stopped at
32 feet in soft mud, and after assuring myself it was at the true
bottom, (by lifting the lead and letting it fall again suddenly,) I then
raised the weight to the surface, and found the tallow in the cup at
the bottom was covered with soft red mud. I was rather surprised at
this, because the hole was about 150 yards from the inlet to the
tarn at Clerk's Beck, which proved that the red water brought down
from the mines at Lindale, by this stream, pervaded the whole
tarn, and after being held in suspension for a while, subsided to the
bottom in the condition of soft red mud.
I then sounded at the second and third holes, which were not
much deeper, the fourth being only 29 feet deep ; my lead in
every instance proved that soft red mud was at the bottom.
It is not necessary to give in detail each separate measurement ;
but to state generally that the result of my experiments proved the
tarn deepened gradually towards the south end, the longest sound-
ing being 41 feet ; and that the bottom consisted of soft red
mud, equally tinged with colour in every part of its whole area.
From the above data we may assume the average depth of the tarn
at Much XJrswick does not exceed 39 feet; that it is gradually filling
up ; that a time will come when there will be no tarn there ; that
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ClerVa Beck will run throngb a meadow, which now occupies the
site of the present tarn, to the outlet at its south end ; and that the
substratum under this new meadow, to a great depth, will consist ^
entirely of impure iron ore, similar to that of Mr. Archibald, from
Nova Scotia, containing probably about 28 or 30 per cent, of iron.
In the above statement I have not propounded any fanciful theory
of my own, but a mathe^iatical truth which can be demonstrated.
Assuming the average depth ot the water to be 39 feet, (which is
something more than I have proved it to be,) and that it occupies
an £urea of 14 acres, 1 rood, and 12 perches ; this gives 2^,335,883
cubic feet of water in the tarn at the present time, or rather at the
time of the experiment, (1853). Now all the water brought into
the tarn by Clerk's $eck (which is its only inlet) is highly charged
with iron ore and other solid matter, partly as a chemical solution,
but principally as a mechanical mixture, which, after a time
subsides ; and as nothing but clear water issues from it by its
outlet at the south end (whiqh is its only outlet), therefore this
solid matter is accumulating at the bottom, and will ultimately fill
it Tip entirely.
The Tarn of Much Urswick, as before stated, has but one outlet,
namely. Clerk's Beck, which now forms a part of the ** water level "
from the mines at Lindale Cote to Much Urswick : this beck also
takes the drainage of all the mines near Lindale, aud of the whole
watershed of the Lindale valley.
From what has been stated, it is certain that the tarn is now
filling up, yet the data for calculating the rate at which this process
is going on, is very imperfect, as certain facts have to be assumed
which are not susceptible of proof Firsts must be supposed an
average velocity and an average sectional area for the stream of
Clerk's Beck, also the average amount of solid matter contained in
the water during the whole year — none of which conditions is con-
stanl^ but all vary according to circumstances. Now it is not a
difficult matter to solve all these problems for any pai*ticular day,
but it would require a long series of experiments even to approx-
imate to the true quantities for a whole year. However, I will
give the result of some observations and experiments bearing on
the subject
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I have found the velodtj of the stream of Clerk's Beck at one
time = 140 feet per minute and its sectional area 2 feet ; giving
» 1,700 cubic feet of water in a minute. At another time, the
velocity 30 feet, and sectional ai*ea 2 feet, thus giving only 60 cuhic
feet a minute ; but even these numbers do not truly represent the
gi*eatest extremes between the highest and the lowest velocitiea,
and the highest and lowest sectional areaH of the water in Clerk's
beck, there are exceptional times which give both higher and lower
velocities. I will take the mean of these numbers for my
data, and that I may not exceed the true quantity, I will only
take 200 days in the year, which is equivalent to giving a slower
mean velocity of the sti*eam, and also a less sectional area, thus
leaving a considerable margin in &vour of a slower filling up of
the tarn than is due to the case.
From the above data, the quantity of water flowing into the
tarn at Much Urswick will be as under, viz :
In one minute 380 cubic feet.
In one hour 22,800 „
In one day 547,200 „
In one year, or 200 days . 10,944,000 „
To ascertain the quantity of solid matter contained in one cubic
foot of the red muddy water flowing into the tarn (and conse-
quently the principal element for deducing the whole amount), I
instituted the following experiments : — I filled a graduated glass
tube with the water that issues from the south end of the tarn,
and weighed it very carefully, which by calculation gave 1,033
ounces to the cubic foot ; I then evaporated all the moisture from
the tube and filled it with water from the Clerk's beck, which I
also carefully weighed, and it gave 1,032 J ounces to the cubic foot;
the difference between these results (minus the bulk or volume o{
solid matter,) gives the weight of solid matter contained in one
cubic foot of water from Clerk's Beck. I then took mud from the
tarn, at the inlet, at the foot of Clerk's Beck, which after being
partially dried, and subjected to a high degree of pressure, gave a
specific gravity = 2*33, therefore, each cubic foot of the watei*
contained 4 J cubic inches of solid matter, or, in round numbers,
about 1 in 400,
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From the above calculations and experiments it is deduced
(without giving the mathematical formula) that Urswick Tarn is
filling up at the rate of about lialf-an-inch annually, and as it had
an average depth of 39 feet in 1863, it should in the winter of 186i>
liave an average depth of 38 feet 5) inches; and if all the conditions
remain the same, after a lapse of 923 years, TJrswick Tarn will be
filled up solid, and a fine rich meadow will occupy its site, with
Clerk's Beck running through the middle of it. The rate at which
this is being accomplished cannot be given with mathematical truth,
yet the above may be taken as an approximation to it. It would be
desirable to verify my soundings of 1853, when the tarn is again
in a condition favourable for it ; and as several of the identical
places can be found from my sounding notes, it would be no difficult
matter to prove whether the rate of deposit is greater or less than
that given above.
The botanical history of the tarn is deserving of some notice; for
besides the species before mentioned there are several others, such
as the water violet (HottoniapaltutrisJ, yellow water lily (Nuphar
liUeumJf water crowfoot (Eanu/i^ciUiis aqtMtUUJ, &c. ; and ki the
outlet brook are found splendid specimens of the Anodon cygneuSy
or large swan mussel, some of them more than nine ounces each.
There is another peculiarity about the tarn which deserves notice.
The north-east portion, from Miss Postlethwaite's meadow to the
boat-house, an area of two or three acres, is covered with a dense
mass of coarse grass, intermixed with flags, <fec., their tough matted
roots forming a covering or sward, the substratum composed
entirely of a semi-liquid mass, which, if the sward was removed,
could not be traversed even by a dog or cat ; and but for this mass
of felted roots it would be impossible to cross it at any time ; and
although thei*e is not much danger of breaking through the cover-
ing of tangled roots, yet timid people have no business upon it
There is a small " feather-bed " patch, similar to this, at Mere
Tarn, where, it is said, a man broke through the covering, and was
never seen more, either dead or alive.
It may be objected, that Clerk's Beck has been the inlet into
Ursvnck Tarn for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ; no doubt
this is true : but when we consider that before mining commenced
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in FuniMS, soarcely anything beyond clear water entered tiie tarn
by this source, very little soUd matter could be deposited, and it is
probable that as much sediment is thrown down in one year at the
present time as was formerly in a hundred years.
WAIFS AND STRAYS.
"When found, make a note of.''— Captain Cuttls.
A Rich Beogab. — ^The foUowiag is a short account, furnished
by Mr. Field, of Oartmel, of a person calling himself WiUiam
FecbrUy in who.e possession was found the sum of 185^ guineas,
and who died at Chirrat House, in the township of Uppen Holker,
on January 8th, 1799. — **Mr. Robinson, of the Backbarrow Ck)tton
Works, on his return from Backbarrow to Bi-oughton Lodge, found
a poor man l3ring in the snow unable to travel. He called on
William Muncaster, a farmer at Broughton, and desired him to
take a cart and convey the person to the overseer's. When he
arrived at Oartmel the man seemed very feebla Some tea and
other refreshments were given to him, and he was then taken to
Richard Chapman's, who kept a lodging-house, where he was
attended by Mr. Brockbank, surgeon. He complained of poverty,
and said he had but a shilling, given to him by Mr. Robinson, and
a few half-pence ; and stated that he was going to Conder-green to
see his son who resided there. He objected to having a letter sent,
saying he would be better in a day or two ; but if not, then it
might be forwarded. He, however, died without any communi-
cation being made to Cyonder-green, and it was afterwards found
that he had no son residing there, nor any person who knew^him.
On removing the clothes from off the body, there was found
secreted in them, the sum above named, all in gold. He travelled
the country with a certificate, purporting to having received it
from St. Thomas's Hospital, London, certifying that he had under-
gone a pain^l surgical operation. This turned out to be a forgery.
His death was advertised in the public jouiTials of the day, and
numerous letters were received fi-om persons residing in various
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quarters, claiming to be his next of tdn, ifee. ; but not one oonld
give a satisfactory account of him, or describe his person, so as to
become entitled to his property. He was a tall man, being up-
wards of six feet in stature. — Pvhlic Charitiea of Lonsdale North,
The Effects of Fear. — A curious circumstance happened at
Camforth, about six miles frotd Lancaster, during one of the late
dreadful thunder-storm& A person of the name of Taylor was
sitting alone in his house, he heard something scratch at the kitchen
door ; thinking it was the cat, he opened the door, and, to his
great surprise, a large foulmaH (or pole-cat) rushed past him, and
sat down by the fire. The man, astonished, sat down in his chair,
looking earnestly at the strange vibitor, which also stared at him ;
at length, after a loud clap of thunder, the foulmart leaped on the
Boan's lap, who, not liking to touch the animal with his hands, took
up the tongs, seized it by the back, and put it into a wire cage, in
which he exhibited it to his astonished neighbours, many of whose
dncks, as well as his own, had lately had their heads bitten off, as
is supposed by this animal. — La Belle Assembl^e for 1810.
Sudden Death. — Robert Anderson, shoemater, a native of
ITlverstone, came from Carlisle to Lockerby, about five o'clock on
Sunday evening, August 11, and sent for his wife, a native of
Lockerby, to an inn. He married her some time last spring.
They lived together at Colin, near Dumfries, when he impudently
Went off to England with a married woman, a neighbour's wife, and
left his own. She, highly enraged at his former conduct^ said to
him, when she saw him, " How have you the assurance to come
Hrhere I am?" He replied, "that he came to die beside her, and
that he would die early to-morrow morning, for his heart was
broken." When she spoke of the other woman to him, he said
he was wouiided with remorse of Conscience, and the recollection
Cf her name went to his heart like a knife. He told the landlord
to send for his wife a second time, for he should not be able to
speak any time after nine o'clock. While casting off his clothes,
he said, '* These shall never go on again." The landlord observed,
** I hope yon are not going to take away your own life." He
replied, "God forbid 1 I have no such intention." About nine
o'clock at night he took a &b, and continued in it till nearly five
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iiext morning, when be expired. The surgeons ^id they saw no
appearance of his having taken poison, or anything whatever to
hasten his death. — H^id.
VARIETIES,
"From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
The Cumberland Dialect. — The dalesmen do not pay much
respect to any one who addresses them in language they are not
accustomed to, nor do they make much allowance for ignorance of
their own dialect. In a Cumberland village I once stopped to
speak to an old lady at her door, and I began by remarking that
the river was much swollen. " We call it a heck," said the old
lady, turning her back upon me, and telling her grand-daughter to
bring out the scrapple. "What may a scrapple be 1" I asked,
deferentially. " Why, that's what a scrapple may be," said she,
indicating a coal-rake in the girl's hand ; and as I moved away
thinking that " scrapple " was a tolerably expressive name for the
implement in question, I overheard her say to a neighbour, " I
don't know where he has been brought up — ^he calls t' beck a river,
and does not kitow what a scrapple is." They have a very quick
sense of humour, and sometimes practice a little mystification on
inquisitive strangers whose questions they consider uncalled for,
by cramming into their answers as many o^olete provincialisms
as their dialect can supply. Of this the most outr^ of all the
specimens I remember is the reply of a boatman on TJUswater to
a tourist who made the somewhat stupid enquiry, " Does it ever
rain here ? " '^ Why it dizzies, and donks, and dozzles and duz,
and sometimes ge'es a lyle bit of a snifter, but it nivver kums i'
enny girt pell," leaving the querist's stock of information very
much as he found it. — The People of the Loke District y hy JL (?,
OihBon, FAA.
A Prophet in his own Country. — The natives of the Lake
District are not pai-ticularly remarkable for a fondness for poetry,
unless it consist of poems and ballads written in their own dialect^
&nd descriptive of their own life and manners, the works of Burns
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fU'o all they hold in much esteem. Scotland's poet alone, of all
others, seems to reach their feelings and understandings, and in some
instances there are men to be found who can repeat whole passages
and make apt quotations from his works on all occasions. Words-
worth, who professed to draw his inspiration from humble life and
common incident, they hardly recognised as a poet, A clever
writer, sometime resident in this district, hearing him spoken of in
Langdale, not far from his residence, by two intelligent old 'states-
men, as " the master of the stamp office," inquired if they had
ever heard of him as a poet. " O yes, they had heard he was a
first-rate hand at that" Had they ever read any of his poetry ]
" They could not say they had." — Ibid,
MONTHLY SUMMARY OF LOCAL EVENTS.
Volunteer Fete. — A grand athletic festival, in connection with
the Ulverston Volunteers, was held in Captain Kennedy's park,
on the 28th of August The judges were Major Whitle, Captain
Suckling, James Park, Esq., Hammerside Hill ; Aymer Ainslie,
Esq., Wm. Park, Esq., and W. Baldwin, Esq. Silver and bronze
medals were given to the successful competitors. The medals were
in the form of a cross, and bore on the obverse the figure of an
athlete, with the legend " Mens Sana in Corpore Sano," on the
reverse " Ulverston -Volunteer Fete."
Meterological. — ^The fall of rain in Ulverston, during August,
was 7*29 inches. • -The heaviest fall in 24 hours occurred on the
Ist, and the amount registered was 1*24 inches. Rain fell on 24
days. — The rain fell, as registered in Holker gardens, was 5*775
inches. The greatest fall in 24 hours occurred on Wednesday,
August 1st, being 1*134 in. The number of rainy days was 33.
The temperature was- highest on Sunday, the 26th, being 75°, and
lowest on Satui-day, the ISth, being 40°.
Literary Success of a Barrow Working Ma^. — Mr. Peter
Malcolm, mason at the. docks, has won the prize of £5 offered by
Mesa^rs. Pettei;, Palpjji,^and Co., for the be^t essay on <*^ Trades
TJnional" Mr. Malcolm adopted as his motto, **^ Knowledge is
power," and the adjudicator, John Stuart Mill, M.P., in announc-
ing his decision, states that this essay is " decidedly the best, both
in matter and style."
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Latino a Foundation Stone. — The foundation stone of a
Primitive Methodist Chapel was laid at Holbom Hill, on the 27th
of August, by Mrs. Cane, of Broom Hill, Broughton-in-Fumess.
XJlvkrston HoBTiCLtTCJRAL Show. — Perhaps on no occasion
have the members of the Horticultural Society had greater reason
to congratulate themselves upon their success than on Tuesday,
the 4th ult, being their seventeenth anuivei-sary, as a greater
number of tickets and a larger amount of cash was taken at the
door than has been the case for some years. The morning proved
dull, and drizzling rain fell in the afternoon, nevertheless a very
numerous and ai;jstocratic assemblage of persons visited the
exhibition.
The Rev R S. Hart has been appointed to the perpetual curacy
of Colton, Newton-in-Cartmel, Lancashire.
Presentation. — On Monday, the 17th ult, G. Stunt, Esq., and
Mr. R Coward, churchwarden of Colton Parish Church, waited
upon the Rev. S. T. and Mrs. Clarke, at Kents Bank, to present
them, in the name of the parishioners of Colton, with a handsome
dining-room clock, in Egyptian marble, with bronze Sphinx orna-
inent ; an oak side-board, and silver inkstand. The inkstand bore
the following inscription : — ** Presented, with a time-piece and
side-board, to the Hev. S. T. Clarke and Mrs. Clarke, as a token
of affectionate regard, by the parishioners of Colton, Lancashire.
June, 1866."
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
The North Lonsdale Maqazinb may be obtained of the Agents and Book-
sellers in the district, but should any subscriber prefej it^ or experience any
difficulty or delay in receiving the work, he may ensure punctual delivery
by having it posted regularly from the office.
All communications which do not bear the real name and address of the writer
' will not be noticed— this is insisted upon— not so much for publication
unless desired, but as a satisfactory guarantee.
We shall be happy to receive information respecting the past history of the
district, old customs, remarkable facts, old local oallads, epitaphs, or any-
thing bearing upon the plan of our work, whether quaint, amuiung,
sdentific, or otherwise.
All contributions and articles for insertion should be written upon one side
only ; printers object to ** copy" written upon both sides of the paper.
The editor cannot pledge himself to return rejected manuscripts.
PrinUd at the ''Advertiser^ Office, The Gill, Ulvmton,
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THJB
AND LAKE DISTBIOT MKOELLAMT.
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MORRIS, F.A.8.L.
No. 5. NOVEMBER, 1866. Vol. I.
A PHILOSOPHICAL ROMANCE,
BY A FHILOSOP^TOB.
Bjf the Eevd. Hewry Noel-FeamfM^.; F.B.8.
We have, in our last three numbers, given an analysis of an
interesting romance of tlie classic period. We now turn to the
reign of Queen Elizabeth, and to our own land — and we shall see
one of the greatest of modem philosophers, endeavouring to express
his opinions with regard to govemment and science in the shape of
a fictitious narrativa The '^Nova Atkmtii^ of Lord ^aoon, cannot
on many grounds be brought into comparison with tie ^^(jfclden Asa^^
of Apuleliis. It lacks all the inventive spirit of poetry which gi'aces
the older romance. The plot is more inartistic, and the whofe
work more dry, and, to the general reader, uninteresting ; but the
naYne of its illustrious author bestows on it a claim which it would
no€ otherwise possess j and an account of so singular a book may
perhaps be more acceptable to our readers than even the book itself^
which few would find patience to i^ead. l^e philosc^hical romance
of Lord Bacon challenges comparison witt the " tJtopiaf* of Sir
Thomas Illore, but it is less interesting as well as less valuable than
the cfeleferAted work of the great Chancellor of rienQr VIII. The
latt^i^i aijaong its wild theorieS| and schemes of impracticable
N
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reforms, still does contain some practical hints, which might be
studied to advantage even in our own time. We venture to think
that we have collected all that is most interesting in that of the
great Chancellor of Elizabeth in the few pages that follow. The
age in which both these writers lived was one favourable to works
of this nature, and thej as prominent and, we may saj, representa-
tive men, could write nothing that it is not worth our while to
examine. That More dared to write so boldly on political subjects
under Henry VIIT., is somewhat of a testimony in favour of that
much abused sovereign. It is possible that Bacon, had he been as
daring under Elizabeth, would not have escaped reproo£ As it is,
we have the two books. One valuable on all accounts, the other
more because the production of so great a man as Bacon than from
any inherent value in itself Lord Bacon rules as a schoolmaster,
and however valuable [some of the hints which he throws out for
the advancement of learnings his general scheme of government is
&r less practical than that of Sir Thomas More. Like his great
predecessor, he imagines a perfect commonwealth — ^but he intro-
duces his story by a reference to classical tradition. The opening
of the romance is inartistic, and will not bear comparison with that
of the Utopia — " We sailed from Peru," says the narrator, "(where
we had continued for the space of one whole year,) for China and
Japan, by the South Sea^ taking with us victuals for twelve
months." Driven by adverse winds towards the north, they at
last arrived at ''a land flat to their sights and full of boscage, which
made it show the more dark ; and afler an hour and a half's sail-
ing, entered into a good haven, being the port of a fair city, not
great indeed, but well built> and that gave a pleasant view from
the sea.'' On coming close into shore, and offering to land, they
saw divers of the people, with batons in their hands, warning them
off. Presently a small boat put out, with about eight persons in it,
one of whom had in his hand a yellow cane, tipped at both ends
with blue, who forthwith boarded them ; and drawing forth a little
scroll of parchment, delivered it to him who seemed to be the fore-
most man among them. In this scroll were written, in smcient
Hebrew, ancient Greek, Latin, and Spanish, these words ; " Land
ye not^ none of you, and provide to be gone from this coast within
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sixteen days, except ye have further time given you : meanwhile, if
you want fresh water, a victual, or help for your sick, or that your
ship needetli repair, write down your wants, and you shall have
that which belongeth to mercy." The writing was stamped with
a cherub's wings, lianging doVnwards, and by them a cross. To
this they replied, in Spanish, that their ship was sound, but that
they had many sick, and those in such an ill case, that, if they
were not permitted to land, they ran in danger of their lives ; and
stated that they had with them some little merchandize, with which
they proposed to trade, and so to supply their wanta They then
offered a present to the officer, who not only would not accept it,
but would scarce look upon it ; and so he took his departure.
About three hours after, there came ''a person (as it seemed) of
place j a reverend man to behold." He came in a gilded boat with
four other persons ; and was followed by another boat, wherein
were some twenty. A boat was lowered to meet him, containing
the officer in command of the vessel, and four others with him.
At a distance of six yards from the other boat they were signalled
to stop. This was done ; and the man before alluded to, stood up,
and, with a loud voice^ demanded, ''Are ye Christians)" They
answered that they were. The said person then in a most solemn
maoner bid them swear by the merits of the Saviour, that they
were not pirates, and had not, either lawfully or imlawfully, shed
blood within forty days, and promised that, on condition of their
making this oath, they should have permission to land They pro*
fessed their willingness to take the oath required, and the great
man returned. After awhile a notary came a-board, and adminis-
tered the oath to them, '' By the name of Jesus and His merits,"
and informed them that next day at six o'clock they should be
lodged in '' the Stranger^s House." Again they offered a present,
and again it was refused. The next day accordingly, they were
lodged in the Stranger's House, the sick in separate cells, the prin-
cipal men in chambers by themselves, and the rest in rooms two
and two together : and they were as well victualled as they were
lodged. After three days came to them the Governor of the House
of Strangers, a Christian priest, who informed them that the state
had given them permission to remain six weeks in the country.
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provided that none should go beyond a mile and a half from the
city walls without special leave. The next day he came again, and
the ten chief men sat with him. He then explained to them that
the name of the island in which they were, was Bensalem ; and
courteously invited them to ask him any questions they pleased
They took advantage of the permission accorded them, and gratified
the worthy priest by asking first, " in that both parts are Christian,
and that land was so remote, and so divided by vast and unknown
seas from the land where our Saviour walked on earth, — who was
the Apostle of that nation, and how it was converted to the Faith f'
The priest expressed great pleasure at the question they had put
to liim, and immediately proceeded to gratify their curiosity. And
he related how that, about twenty years after the ascension of the
Saviour, the people of Renfusa, a city upon the eastern coast of the
island, had been startled one night by the appeai-ance of a pillar of
fire rising from the sea, on the top of which was a large cross of
light, brighter still than the body of the pillar, Many put out in
boats, in order to get a nearer view of this wonderful sight ; but
when they came within sixty yards, they found themselves boimd
and unable to proceed farther. It so happened, that in one of the
boats was one of the wise men of the society of Solomon's House,
who, having for a while devoutly and attentively contemplated the
pillar and cross, fell down upon his knees, confessed that the
miraculous appearance must have been sent from Heaven, and
prayed for an interpretation of it. No sooner ha4 he made his
prayer, than his boat became moveable again, though all the rest
still remained bound ; and, as softly and silently he rowed towards
the pillar, the light broke up into a multitude of stars, which
gradually vanished away, and nothing was left but a small ark or
chest of cedar, at the fore-end of which grew a small green branch
of palm. This the wise man took, with all reverence, into his boat^
when it opened of its own accord, and was found to contain a book
and a letter, both written on fine parchment, and wrapped in
Bindons of linen. The book consisted of the Old and New Testa-
ments, such as they are now received by the church, together with
the Apocalypse and other portions of the New Testament, which
were not yet at that time written. In the letter were the foUow-
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ing words : ** I, Bartholomew, ^ servant of the Highest, and an
apostle of Jesus Christ, was warned by an^mgel that appeared to
me in a vision of glory, that I should commit this ark to the floods
of the sea. Therefore I do testify and declare unto that people
where God shall ordain this ark to come to land, that in the same
day is come unto them salvation, and peace, and good will from the
Father and from the Lord Jesus."
There were at that time in the island, Hebrews, Pei*sians, and
Indians, besides the natives ; and yet, whatever was the nation of
him who read in the book, it appeared to him as though it had
been written in his own language : an incident which will at once
remind us of the supernatural gift of tongues on the day of Pente-
cost^ when, whatever language any Apostle might be speaking, the
different members of the different peoples who were gathered
together, heard " every man in his own tongue wherein he was
bom." At the conclusion of this miraculous tale, the narrator was
called away ; so that this was all that passed at this conference.
The next day he called again, and once more permitted them to
propose any questions to him they pleased. After making many
apologies for what they were about to ask, they demanded of him
how it was, that, lying, as they did, at so great a distance from the
rest of the world, they had yet so perfect a knowledge of the
languages, books, and affairs of other nations, and that^ too, when
they had never heard, either in Europe or any otlier part of the .
world, of any ship that had either come from them, or visited them.
To this he replied by frst giving them to understand, that '' three
thousand years ago, or somewhat more, the navigation of the world,
especially for remote voyages, was greater than at this day" — ^and
that at that time Atlantis was known and frequented by ships of
the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, and others, and that their own
vessels were in the habit of sailing as ftir as the pillars of Hercules,
and of visiting many places in the Atlantic and Mediterranean
seas, as well as other parts of the world. At, or a little after that
age, the inhabitants of the great Atlantis flourished; for an account
of which we must refer our readers to the Timseus of Plato. They,
with the people of Peru, then called Coya, and of Mexico, then
called Tyrembel, m^de, within the sp^M^e of ten years, two great
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expeditions,— one tbroagh the Aflantio to the Mediterranean — the
other through the South Sea to the island in which they then were.
The result of the former expedition was its total destruction:
whether the ancient Athenians had the glory of repulsing it, the
priest could not say ; but certain it was, that neither man nor ship
ever returned. The latter armament was taken captive by the then
king of the island, (by name Altabin, a wise man, and a great
warrior) without striking a blow : on their surrender, he contented
himself with binding them by an oath that they should no more
bear arms against him, and then dismissed them all in safety.
Within one hundred years the great Atlantis was utterly destroyed,
not, the priest says, by an earthquake (which is the account that
Plato gives), but by a mighty inundation.
About a thousand years later, there reigned in th^ island a great
and wise king, named Salomona. He, taking into consideration
how sufficient the land was to maintain itself, without any foreign
aid, enacted the interdicts and prohibitions with regard to the
admission of strangers, which were then still in force. And these
regulations, the priest observes, are by no means like those of
China on the same subject j for their law of keeping out strangera
is but one of fear and pusillanimity : but they are made with due
regard to the relief of and provision for distressed strangers, of
which his listeners at that moment were reaping the fruits. The
king only ordained, that of all strangers who might land, as many^
at all times, might depart as would ; but as many as would stay,
should have very good condition and means to live from the state :"
and the result had been that ever since the time of King Salomona
only thirteen persons who had landed on their shores had cared to
return again to their own country. But the greatest act of this
illustrious sovereign was the institution of an order of society, called
Solomon's House. The name was derived from the wise man of
Israel, some of the lost works of whom, upon subjects of natural
history, the Atlanteans then possessed.
This society was also called the College of the Six Days Work ;
and it was dedicated to the study of Him who had made all things
in six days. Though Salomona forbad his people to navigate to
any part that was not sul\ject to his crown, yet he ordained that
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e^ery twelve years two ships should be sent out, in each of which
there should be three fellows or brethrea of the society, whose
errand it should be to gain what knowledge they could of the
afiaii's, sciences, arts, manufactures, and inventions of the different
countries of the world ; so that they maintained a trade, indeed, as
it were, but not for gold, silver, or jewels, nor. for silks, nor for
spices, nor any other commodity of matter, but only for (Sod's first
creature, which was light ; to have light of the growth of aU parts
of the world."
(To be conduded in our next*)
"^app^UUvA S^tUUtfi.
ALDINGHAM.
[COATUIUJBD.]
The Parish Church of Aldingham, dedicated to St. Cuthbert, is an
ancient structure, and bears marks of antiquify, although it has
evidently, at various times, undergone considerable alteration,
without; alas ! escaping the violence of the renovators of the last
century, whose predilictions for plaster and whitewash are too well
known to need comment.
The history of the church is somewhat obscure, but its foundation
is assigned to the first Michael le Fleming, who received extensive
grants fiN)m the conqueror. The first mention made of it is about
the year-llSO, in a deed of Fumess Abbey, in which William, son
of the first Michael le Fleming, acknowleges the receipt of the
lands from Jocelin de Pennington, eighth abbot de /(octo, which
his father had sought to exchange from his predecessor, Ewan
d' Avranches. One of the witnesses is Daniel, parson of Aldingham,
(persona de Haldingha/m,) who had been formerly parson of
XJrswick in his other's time, but now had charge of the &mily
church when his brother William enjoyed the honours of their
house. Mr. Evans also states that about the commencement of the
thirteenth century, the abbot of Fumess demised the vicarage of
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Dalton to Williaiii de Horhampti on oon€liti<m of paying tuumaHj
1:006. to tlie parson of A'klingham. The j)arbh is noticed m the
vttlor of Pope Nicholas, taken in 12^1. The church now stands
<Ao8e by iAke ^oref the tide reaching to the walls of the grav^ard,
«nd itg venerable aspeet accords well with the quietude of the scene,
and the almost sylvan gloom in which it b shrouded. Lithe
diurchyard is an old sun-dial, with the following quaint though
beaiitiffdly appropriate inacripticm around the plate.
USE THE PRESENT TIME :
BEDEEH THE PAST.
POR THUS CERTAINLY, THO' IMPERCEPTIBLY,
THE NIGHT OF LIFE APPROACHES.
JOKANNSa WIUJAMSON.
1753.
The church is built of the district limestone, roughcast with lime
and gravel, the quoins and dressings b^ng partly of red permiaa
sandstone, and partly of milbptone grit The architecture generally
fatbits a series of transitions from the Noiwi^an jthimigh iQie early
|!pgli9h aod .perpendicular styles, to.rec^it times, some choice
iqpiCGiQ^enii of (the true pbur^chward^nic taste aj^pearing very pi.^-
uemtly.
J)^ iiover belongs to the Tudor period, ^.nd a deprtBi9sed goth^c
arch in the base forms the western entrance to the ecb^^ ^
pmeijpal iwu^dow and tbe belfry lights b^ng appropgd^tdy <4Qsig|ied'
At th^ foo^b of the tower, piu the south side, may be observctd a
fe^ Ippse A^pii^citvral A»im> lyii^g partly covered mt\^ g^'a.ss a&<i
eaftb<^^e9e <wiep^ v^uov^d to their present ^ituatiq^ d^iiD^ ^^^
Jifi^ alt^ratu^s Ml the ohurchi where they had bc^n mad/e to serve
ua iw^do.^ Bill? ! It js greasy to be regretted that they w^ere aot
.pl^bqed juQ aou^ wpr^ #eoure Hpot than this, as they lie exposed iK)
the dueppingprfeow the toiwer, and are suffering severely Iroip ^
K^Qfieqiuent w-eap. O^e of thei» is distinguished by ap i^flwed
Mfmt>^ pw)fis, aiOii \mx^ tb^ fqllowiDg inscription, Wihiob i? 0^7
mf imt K^nttttlw rut (btOti.
It is not uidUccdy that ^his is the tombstone of Ooditha,
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daughter of Sir Michael le Fleming, whom he gave in marriage to
William, son o^ Edward, who received with her, as dowery, three
carucates of land in Adgarley, and half a carucate in TTrswiok.
Scales being a hamlet in the township of Aldingham, it may be
readily supposed that this couple afterwards resided there, and,
according to the custom of the period, took their surname from the
place. The date of the tombst<Hie, therefore, may be referred to
the latter part of the twelfth century, which would make it between
GOO and 700 years old. Much credit is due to those gentlemen
who rescued these ancient monuments fi-om greater degradation,
and it is to be hoped they will extend their influence a little further
until they are cleaned and safely deposited somewhere within the
sacred edifice. A priest's doorway on the south side affords
admission to the chancel, through a trefoil headed opening, under
a pointed arch, ornamented slightly with the dog-toothed moulding.
Several sepulchral slabs, of early date, may be seen under the walls
of the chancel, next this door, shewing, as some think, that these
stones may have been made use of as a foundation, otherwise the
walls would have rested upon the turf. It is more probable they
were arranged there purposely, as in many instances similar ones
are found near the thresholds of church doora, having all the
ap])earauce of being in their natural position, and it is supposed
they denote the humility of the deceased, or perhaps allude to the
text, " I ha4 rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than
dwell in the tents of ungodliness." There has been a cross sur-
mounting the eastern gable of the chancel, the pedestal now only
remaining. The chancel is lighted by four windows, the eastern
being in the pointed style, a two-light lancet window of heavy
masonry, with a transom across the lower part, and a curious
square headed one, divided by cylindrical shafts, having capitals
and bases, on the south ; and on the north side, a perpendicular
window with massive square mullions, in which there still exists a
piece of old stained glass, representing the arms of the Harringtons,
(a frette argent on a sable field).
The sanctuary is approached by three steps, and here everything
is of the rudest description — the altar rail and communion table
plain as possible, no chairs or rests for the officiating minister, and
the whole, cold and comfortless.
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There Is a piscina in the south wall, the outline of which and of
the adjoining window is interfered with by a thick coat of cement
The plaster ceiling is so low, that it obstructs nearly one half the
light from the eastern window. Some monumental brasses have
been removed from slabs on the floor, the oldest one remaining
referring to a former rector, Thomas Shawe, M.A., who died in
1667, and is as follows : — " Hie jacet Dominus Thomas Shawe in
artibus Magister et nuper huias Ecclesioe Pastor vir vere pius
Doctus et Keverendus qui postqaam laborasset sedulo Ministerali
in officio per Annos XL, obiit in Dominus Die Mensis Octobris
XIX annoque Domini MDCLXVII et eetatis suae circiter LXX.
The other inscriptions on stone in the floor allude to James
Barton, M A., who died July 7th, 1814, aged 68, and John Ashton,
M.A., who died March 14th, 1759, aged 37. There are mural
tablets to Roger Baldwin, D.D., F.R.S., F.A.S., who died 28th
August, 1801, and to the late rector, who was universally respected
for his learning and piety, and beloved in the parish for his extra-
ordinary benevolence and Christian charity.
" Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side."
So great was his popularity that his church was always crowded,
and even when a funeral took place, vast numbers attended from
the neighbouring villages to hear his impressive rendering of the
solemn burial service, and the soul-stirring address which he fre-
quently took the opportunity of delivering on the assemblage of so
great a company to these mournful occasions. A marble slab in
the wall bears the following : —
IK HEMOEY OF
THE REVEBEND JOHN STONARD, D.D.,
BOBN AT LAMBETH, IN SURREY,
ON THE IOtH MARCH, 1769.
ORDAINED TO THE CURACY OF CHEVENING,
IN KENT,
DEACON ON THE IOtH JUNE, 1794,
PRIEST ON THE 21 ST DECEMBER FOLLOWING,
AFTERWARDS CURATE OF SUNRIDGE,
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1«S
AKD THEK OF EAST MALLIKG, 19 KXinr,
INSTITCTED TO THE BECfTORT OF
WEST DEEPING, IK LINOOLNSHIBE,
IN OOTOBEB, 1811,
AND LA8TLT TO THE RECTORT OF ALDINQHAM,
ON THE 19th AUGUST, 1814.
DIED 22nd APRIL, 184^.
The chancel arch, obtusely pointed, (Tudor) springs from brackets
rudely carved with grotesque heads, and through the south side of
it is an oblique opening, supposed to have been for the purpose of
enabling the worshippers in the south aisle to witness the elevation
of the host in Roman Catholic timea
The nave is separated from the aisles by pier arches, those on
the north being modem pointed gothic, while those on the south
are plain semicircular, supported alternately by massive octagonal
and cylindrical columns, the western one having a rudely chiseled
capital. The aisles are lighted by square headed modem decorated
windows, indifferently set The tower arch is perpendicular, and
pierces the ceiling of the nave, which is lowered in the proper
carpenteresque style. There is an antique font of red sandstone,
on a pedestal and four light columns.
The benefice is a rectory in the patronage of the crown, in right
of the duchy of Lancaster, and is now worth £1,093 a year.
The following is the list of rectors : — Robert Broke, 1546 ;
John Robinson, 1562 ; Richard Guilpin, 1567 j Geoffrey King,
1614 ; John Rowthe, 1617 ; Geoffrey Kynge, 1623 ; Thomas
Valentine, ; Thomas Shawe, 1625 ; Michael Stanforth, ;
William Thompson, 1683; Thomaa Tully, 1694 j Thomas Tullie,
1727; Thomas Assheton, 1742; John Ashton, 1749; Edward
Smallej, 1749; Roger Baldwin, 1760; James Barton, 1801;
John Stonard, 1814 ; John Macaulay, 1849.
George Fox, the founder of the Society of Friends, in the year
1652, visited this church among others in the district He says,
in bis journal, "I was moved to goto Aldenham steeple-house;
and when the priest had done, I sj)oke to him ; but he got away.
Then I declared the word of life to the people, and warned them to
turn to the Lord."
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Near to the church, are the Kectory and Aldingham Hall : the
latter the property and seat of E. J. Schollick, Esq., is a beautiful
and extensive modem erection, and a fine specimen of the domestic
architecture of the Tudor period. It is adorned with towers and
spiral turrets, and from its situation near the shore commands
charming views of the bay.
Sir Michael le Fleming was a valiant knight, and-for his fidelity
and good sereices to William the Conqueror, in opposing the Scots
and Saxons in the North, received from his royal master many
noble estates in Furness, including lands in Aldingham, Gleaston,
and Urswick. He was sometimes styled, according to the Norman
custom, Sir Michael de Fuiness, and from a charter signed eighty-
seven years after the conquest, bequeathing alms to the Abbey of
St. Mary, of Furness, it is evident that he lived to a very advanced
age. At his death, he was interred in the abbey, as were many of the
nobility and gentry of those days. The estates of this knight were
known as '' Michael's lands,'' to distinguish them from the abbey
lands, because they were excepted in the original charter of Earl
Stephen, and the corruption of the word Michael to Mickle and
Much, is readily traced ; hence the term Manor of Muchland.
In the same way, that part of Urswick belonging to the le Flem-
ings, was first called Michaers Urswick, and eventually Much
Urswick.
This manor did not long remain in the name of Fleming ; for in
the year 1269, Michael le Fleming dying without issue, and his
brother William being drowned in Leven water, it descended tahis
only sister, Alice, wife of Richard de Caunesfield, or Cansfield ; in
which name it continued till the year 1293, when William de
Caunesfield, or Cansfield, dying without issue, it descended to John
de Hanington, son of his sister Agnes, who had married Robert de
Harrington ; and in that name it continued until the year 145',
when Sir William Harrington, dying without issue male, this
manor descended to his grandson, William Bonville, the son of his
daughter, Elizabeth, who had married William, lord Bonville, and
c|ied in her fiither's lifetime. This William was called William,
1qi:4 Harrington, and was slain at tJie battle of Wakefield, in the
year 1460, leaving an only daughter, named Cecilia, married to
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Thomas Grey, Marquis of Dorset, son of King Edward the fourth's
queen. By him she had issue, Thomas ; who, in 1494, upon the
death of his Either, became Marquis of Dorset, and died 1530.
He was succeeded by his son Henry, who was created Duke of
Suffolk by King Edward YI., and was beheaded for high treason
against Queen Mary, in 1554. By his attainder, the manor of
Muchland was forfeited to the crown. During the time this manor
rested in the crown, several parts of it were dismembered by the
kings James and Charles I. In the year 1629, it was conveyed to
the Earl of Holland and others for ninety-nine years, in trust for
Queen Henrietta, during the term of her life, aixd after her decease
to the use of the king, his heirs and successors. King Charles II.,
in 1672, reciting the before-mentioned grant made by his fitther,
conveyed this manor to the Earl of St. Alban's, and others, for the
residue of the said term, in trust for his queen, Catherine, during
her life ; and the same king, in 1679, granted the said manor to
Bertie and others, in fee, in trust for Charles, Earl of Plymouth,
(his natural son by Mrs. Catherine Peg,) and the heirs of his body ;
but he dying the next year without issue, this manor again reverted
to the crown, and remained therein until 1693, when King William
and Queen Mary, reciting the former grant, granted the said manor
to George Sayer and John Sayer, for ninety-nine years from the
death of Queen Catherine (who died in 1705), paying 10s. a year
rent, and discharging the ten pounds a year due to the lordship of
Furuess. This lease expired in 1804, when the Duchess of
Buccleuch, daughter of the Duke of Montague, became lessee. ^The
manor is at present held of the Duke of Buccleuch, lord of the
liberty of Fumess, by a yearly rent of £10, in trast for the crown,
by the commissioners of woods and forests. The lands held of the
manor of Muchland are of copyhold tenure, and descend to the
eldest son, and if there be no son, to the eldest daughter. Courts
for the manor are held at the manor-house, Sea wood, in October,
yearly. The following customs of this manor were confirmed by
Queen Elizabeth, on the 3rd of March, in the ninth year of her
reign. The tenant on being admitted to his tenement, pays to the
lord of the manor two years' rent over and above the usual annual
rent. Every tenant paying 40s. rent was formerly obliged to
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find a horse and harness for the king's service, on the borders or
elsewhere. Every tenant, who paid 20s. a year's rent, was to
furnish a man harnessed for the king's service. Every old tenant
paid a gressom (this custom is lost to the lord by disuse) of one
year's rent on the death of the lord, and every new tenant pays
two years' rent to the next heir. The widow, in this manor, has
one-third of the tenement during her widowhood. If a tenement
is not presented within a year and a day after the death of a tenant,
or if it be sold, set, or let, without paying the fine, or gressom, for
a year and a day ; then the lord, if there be not good distress upon
the grounds, may seize such tenement into his hands as a forfeiture.
THE BONE CAVES OF CARTMEL.
" There are those who will lie dead for twelve thousand jeam to oome^
or twelve million, for anything you or I know, who will tell strange tales
atlastl"— DiOKBNs.
" And though he's buried in a cave,
And trodden down with stones,
And years have rotted off his flesh,
The world shall see his bones ! "-^Hoon.
The discovery in various parts of the country of caverns containing
the bones of man mingled with rude objects exhibiting his handi-
work, has opened out to antiquarians and others interested in
Archaic Anthropology a new and interesting field for observation.
The study of the early history of man in Britain has now become
a speciality y and many theories have been propounded to account
for the first peopling of this country. Geoffrey, of Monmouth, in
his veracious chronicle, states that when Brutus left Greece, after
several adventures he arrived in^England, aud landed at Totnes.
" This island was then called Albion, and was inhabited by none
but a few giants whom the invaders drove to coA^ea in the moun-
tains, and afterwards divided the country amongst them and c^ed
it Britain after their leader." The information derived from these
■ J^ ♦Srsf-i-"^
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cave dwellings respecting their early occupants, is in the highest
degree interesting. The late Dr. Falconer, in a letter to the Times,
March 25, 1864, describing some recent discoveries in bone caves
in the south of France, says — " The evidence tells us to what race
the early tenant of the caves belonged, what was his stature, and
what his physical powers ; what the animals which were his con-
temporaries ; what he fed upon, and that he cooked his meat by
fire ; that he extracted the marrow from the bones, and how he
did it ; how and with what weapons he killed his game ; what the
implements in stone, bone, and deer's horn which he used j what
his ornaments, and how he disposed of his dead.'' Of these bone
caves this district is peculiarly rich on both sides of the sands.
As that of Kirkhead, however, is the only one that has been
systematically explored, it is to this we will first direct attention.
Kirkhead hill stands upon the eastern shore of the promontory
of Cartmel, in the immediate neighbourhood of Kents Bank, and
is the property of J. S. Young, Esq., of Abbots Hall. The cavern
opens out on the foce of a steep breast on the western side of the
hill, about 85 feet above high water mark, the inclination from the
cave mouth downwards being about 65*^, The earliest notice we
have of its existence occurs in a poem of the late Mr. John Briggs,
(a native of the district) published in the year 1818, where he saya^
'* Here might some Druid's sacred cirele stand,
And KiBKHBAD Oavb his lone asylum be.^
Since this time it has only been known as a badger hole. Some
yeai*s ago, Mr. W. Salmon, F.G.S., Mr. John Bolton, Mr. Middle-
ton, and a few friends, visited the cavern, and held a pic-nio on
the small plateau in front of the entrance. On this occasion Mr.
Bolton examined the interior, and succeeded in finding several
human remains. Nothing more was done towards exploring the
place until about three years ago, when the writer accompanied
Mr. Salmon to the cavern, determined upon making a thorough
excavation. The entrance was then about two feet high, but
immediately on entering the roof rose to 14 feet, forming a splendid
dome of solid limestone. The floor was composed of a hard clayey
soil of a slightly redish colour, mingled with human and animal
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bones, charcoal, angular fragments of limestona and water-worn
pebbles of blue slate. In length the cavern is 40 feet, its extreme
width 25 feet
The sanction of Mr. Young having been obtained for a thorough
examination of the cavern, several visits were made for that pur-
pose, and many objects of interest were found, amongst which we
may mention fragments of coarse iTide pottery, exhibiting no traces
of the potter's wheel or of kiln drying ; a Roman coin of the
Emperor Domitian ; a portion of an iron axe ; a hammer head,
and a knife blade, all of the Roman type. In addition to these
metal implement}^, there were also found, of bone, a small portion
of a rib, lin. 7-lOtbs long, sharpened to a diamond point, and a
metatarsal bone of the pig, with an evenly drilled hole bored
through it transversly. The first has probably been a rude needle
used for the manufacture of fishing nets, but for what purpose the
latter has been fabricated is problematical. The writer is of
opinion that it was worn suspended round the neck as an amulet.
Professor Busk, F.R.S., inclines to the belief that it has been a
whistle, as it partly resembles those found in the bone caves of
the south of France. The interest attached to the specimens above
named led to the formation of a local committee for its explora-
tion, and having obtained pecuniary assistance from several Fellows
of the Anthropological Society of London, and other gentlemen
resident in XJlverston, we commenced operations on the 4th of ^
September, 1865. The committee consisted of I>r. Anderson, Dr.
Barber, Mr. W. Salmon, F.G.S., and the writer, and at the close
of our labours a report was drawn up and read before the Anthro-
pological Society, which report has since been printed in a' volume
of Memoirs, and with the consent of the Council of the Society,
we here reproduce a portion : —
" The entrance to the cavern being only about three feet high,
our first object was to cut a barrow-road through a large bank of
earth fronting the cavern mouth, which was accomplished in two
days. In -this cutting several fractured animal bones were found,
belonging principally to the ox, deer, goat, badger, and fox.
Having now a good dean road, our next operation watei to dig a
trench actoss the cavern mouth, so that we should have a breast
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of earUi before us of about eight feet in thiokneas. In <
this trench, several pieces of rude unbaked pottery were found,
and a human malar bone. Immediately within the cavern, and
forming a semicircle about its mouth, several huge blocks of stone
occurred, having evidently rolled in from the overhanging cli£
These formed a serious obstruction to us, and had to be blasted
away. Under one of the pieces of rock, and about four feet below
the surface, my son, who accompanied me, found a large fluted
earthenware bead. Progressing carefully, every spadeful of earth
being closely examined, the next object we found was a bronze
ring, this was also at a depth of four feet. Neai'ly a foot beneath
this ring a bronze pin was found, coated with a green vitreous
enamel On the left-hand side of the cavern, and about six feet
deep, we found the head of a femur, rubbed down to a disc shape,
with a hole bored through its centre. This singular object has
probably been worn as an amulet, or ornament. In close proxi-
mity to this, a human femur was found, and a small portion of trhe
under jaw of a child of about five years of age, the permanent
teeth appearing below the alveolar arch. Our next discovery was
a fragment of what appears to have been a circular disc of polished
granite. This specimen was much larger when found, but was so
friable that it crumbled away in the hands. At a depth of seven
feet we came upon a lai*ge block of stalagmite, and on breaking it
up I found no bones, but a very beautiful impression of a leaf.
We had now, September 17th, reached the middle of the
cavern, when a highly finished bronze implement was turned up.
This beautiful cutting instrument has, no doubt, been used for
domestic purposes, and has, after being cast, received a high polish,
apparently with a piece of sandstone. Near the same place we
also found a bronze ring, similar to the one already mentioned,-
and several human bones. Our next prize was a fragment of
ornamented bronze, which has either been a trefoil or cruciform-
shaped fibula, or a portion of some horse-trapping; and in the
immediate vicinity, a small bronze tube* and a small amber
* Since writing the above. I have^had the opportunity, through the kind-
ness of H. E. Smith, Esq., or Aldbro' House, Egreraont, of exanuning several
similar tubes from various Roman stations in England, and the prevailing
opinion Is that they are needle cases. •
Q
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bead ; the ktteri I am worry to mJi wa» broken iu Hm runovaL
On the 25tli of September we foond the lefk inferior maxillary of
a human adult, and within a short distance of that a large amber
bead. On the same day, and at a depth of seyen feet, a piece of
limestone breccia containing a flint (1) flake was exposed I have
not attempted to develope this interesting specimen, but, wil^ the
exception of washiug off the soO, have sent it as obtained.
The next object of interest discovered, was a bronze dagger, or
spearhead, about ten feet from the end of the cavern, at a depth of
six feet ; and close by, with a small fragment of an urn, apparently
having been worked out of some soft micaceous stone, a piece of
polished bone. We had now almost reached^the end of the cavern,
taking off eight feet of the earth in our course, when, in clearing
out the right-hand comer, we found a very beautiful and perfect
bronze celt, at a depth of five feet. Like other implements of
ancient date, this valuable relic has been run in a mould of stone
or metal, which is evidenced by its peculiar "skin.'' On this point,
having had considerable experience in casting, I can speak with
some confidence. The fiuidity of the bronse at its formation has
not been perfect, or the mould, not having been sufficiently heated,
has chilled the metal ; for the upper parts of the loop and socket-rim
are slightly " Mnt run." From the appearance of the joints, it has
undoubtedly been untouched after leaving the mould, the "fin" still
remaining, except upon the cutting edge, differing in this respect
considerably from the highly finished implement before mentioned
The specimen I have called a fibula or horse trapping, is a much
ruder casting even than the celt, and has been used just as it left
the mould, as the '^ fin" round it, for so small an object, is large
and rough. From its appearance, I suppose it has been executed
in fine sand or loam ; and the upper part of the mould fitting veiy
badly to the under part, causes the casting to be what is technically
caUed "twisted."
In the same comer with the celt, we revealed a piece of rude
pottery, with holes for suspension, and at the extreme end of the
cavern a human fix)ntal bona
Thronghout the whole of our excavations human and animal
remains were found at all depths, but no two bones together, and
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M more or leas fvaotured Some are gnawed by the smaller car*
nirora ; and one, the portion of a human fibula, has been out and
pointed by human agency.
To abler archnologists than myself I leave the task of assigning
an age to these intertssting relics of a bygone period. The discovery,
however, of a flint flake, assuredly of human manufacture^ associated
with bronze implements, appears to me to strengthen the opinion
advanced by our honorary fellow, Mr. T. Wright, that the theory
of a succession of ages of stone, bronze^ and iron, has no foundation
in &iot
I would here thank the three gentlemen associated with me in
the exploration, for their ready assistance and advice whenever
occasion demanded. I desire also to express my thanks to J. 8.
Toung, Esq., upon whose estate the cavern is situated, for the
ready permission granted us to make whatever use of the cave and
its contents we thought fit;
Postscript — There is one point respecting the human bones which
I forgot to mention. I don't know that it is of much importance,
but I have always found that bones in wet soil keep better than in
dry. Some of the human bones from Kirkhead scarcely contain
any animal matter, whilst others have nearly retained the whole.
This I attribute to the presence or absence of water in the soil,
some parts of the deposit in the cavern being saturated with water,
and whenever such was the case, the bones were in better
condition."
In the discussion which followed the reading of the report, the
prevailing opinion seemed to be that the occupation of the cave was
referable to the Koman period ; and this conclusion we will not at
present attempt to dispute, at the same time we ai*e strongly of
opinion that, many of the objects denote a much earlier occupancy.
CAPES HEAD CAVE.
SoHE years ago, in quarrying stone for the building of an em-
bankment of the Lancaster and Fumess Bailway, over the Leven
sands, a cavern was discovefed in the bluff limestone headland
called Capes Head, on the western shore of the peninsula of
Cartmel. At the instance of his Grace, the Duke of Devonshire,
some portion of it was excavated, but I am not aware of anything
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important having been found except a few remains of the Ftim
naturcR. Being in the neighbourhood, with Mr. John Boolton, I
was induced to examine the place, and on breaking a piece of
stalagmite, I found several fragments of charcoal closely embedded
The evidence thus obtained of the human occupancy of the cave,
induced me to visit it again, on which occasion I found, in the
calcified mould and stalagmite adhering to the sides of the cave, a
human humerus (arm bone), and a badger^s skull containing one
molar tootL On a subsequent visit, I found a human malar bone
(cheek bone), and afterwards a fragment of rude pottery similar to
the specimens from Elirkhead. Much yet requires to be done before
anything can be definitely stated respecting the age of this cavern.
By a careful examination, some object having a chronological valne
might possibly be found. The dimensions of this cavern at the
present time are, 87 feet long, 1^ feet broad, and 10 feet high.
goal W^mMn.
SIR JOHN BARROW, BART., LL.D., F.R.S.
( Continued fiimi otur last)
However important and valuable Mr. Barrow's visit to China
might be to himself, personally, yet it did not display any new, or
exhibit any previously known feature in his character, in any
stronger light. His duties were onerous, but they were of too
commonplace a character to exhibit him in any new or striking
phase.
His position, however, in Lord Macartney's embassy to South
Africa, was veiy different ; and enjoying, as he did, the plenary
confidence of his loi-dship, the history of that embassy exhibits some
most pleasing traits in Mr. BaiTOw's character. "After Lord
"Macartney's return from China, in 1795, an official narrative of
" the embassy was published by Sir George Staunton. The Cape of
" Good Hope had, about this period, faJlen into the hands of the
" English, and the acquisition was considered by the Colonial and
** War Secretary as one of vast importance to England. General
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** Craig, the officer commaTiding the troops at the capture of the
" Cape, had assumed the governorship, but the Colonial Secretary
^' was of opinion that a civilian of high rank and character might
^' be more acceptable to the natives, as governor, than a military
" officer."
The government adopted that opinion, and Lord Macartney was
commissioned aa ambassador, and Mr. Barrow appointed one of his
lordship's private secretaries.
On the landing of the embassy, it was found ''that affidrs did not
** wear the most auspicious aspect ; the boors of the grazing fitrmers
'' of the distant district of Graff Reynet were in a state little short
'' of rebellion. They had maltreated and expelled the landrost and
'' the clergyman who had been sent thither by Sir James Craig.''
Lord Macartney, who was a man of firmness ajid decision,
resolved that the boors should apologise, and receive back the
officials whom they had insulted and abused. The landrost
demurred, the poor parson was terrified. Lord Macartney, how-
ever, appointed Barrow to accompany them, and make things
pleasant, rather than send aregiment of dragoons to thiush them into
obedience. Lord Macartney was anxious to know more of the
geography of the country, and also to put a stop to the bloody fights
perpetually occurring between the Kaffirs and boors. Charged
with such a commission, which was so honourable to Barrow, he
prepared himself, without hesitation, for its prompt and humane
execution. He remembered the botanical lessons he had formerly
taken at Kew Gardens, qualifying him, as he says, ''for exploring
** the rich forests of ericas and proteas, and the plentiful harvest of
^' these and other beautiful plants that I knew would be met with
"in South Africa."
At this time a dark cloud overshadowed the embassy, produced
by the melancholy suicide of one of the members, brother to a
duchess. "We suppress the names. This distressing and most
painful event was occasioned by the extravagance of the young man«
Now we find Mr. Barrow busily preparing his expedition to the
interior on his mission of peace and mission of science.
On the 1st of July, he departs with his horses, oxen, waggonS|
and hottentots, and we can well imagine that when, on the first
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night he halted near the foot of the Tiger Motmtain, the leader of
a most important expedition, he would contrast his happy, honor-
able position, with the time when, at Dragley B^k, he had no
occupation, nor any prospect of any ; but now the chosen deputy
of a high-minded peer, to settle warlike disputes between Dutcb
Boors and the Kaffirs, carrying only the olive branch of peace. It
is very probable he felicitated himself as the negociator of amity
with the poor blacks, and felt, as he justly might, an honest pride
in having rejected the proposal to be a whipper-in of poor Africans
in the West Indies.
Despite of all drawbacks, for rapid locomotion in the interior of
Africa would be something new under the sun, the journey was
exciting and agreeable-— we think thoroughly romantic and delight-
ful, for the dangers of African travelling (which ought never to be
mentioned by any person who can use the rifle) never disturb the
tranquillity of a man of spirit and courage. One day carrying
with him Airton's " Hortus Kewensia" and the " Systema Naturae,"
inspecting the choice flowering shrubs embossing a green verdant
mountain — or examining the heaths gi*owing on a more sterile hill.
At night, though there was no opera house, where he could luxuri-
ate in the melodious strains of a Swedish or Italian prima donna,
yet — without money — and where the etiquette as to evening dress
was not enforced, he listened, if not to the ravishing strains, yet
to the novel " nocturnal concert of the roaring of lions, the bellow-
"ing of buffaloes, the howling of wolves, and the yelping of
"jackals, and the timid lowing of the oxen." Now rambling in
fertile valleys, well watered, and teeming with com, grapes, and
fruits of all kinds — anon, eveiy thing is barren, rugged ; hills
without verdure, no trace of man, not a tree, not a shrub, to break
the monotonous and dreary sterility, not a bird or a beast to
enliven the dreary waste. Just such a scene as Milton would call
*' The seat of desolatioD."
Late in the evening of the 30th of July, the party arrived at the
village of Drosdy. Nearly a month, therefore, had been expended
in travelling five hundred miles, of which sixteen or seventeen days
were spent in crossing the di*eary Karroo desei*t, extending three
hundred miles, from east to west Two-thirds of that distance
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Barrow traversed on foot, with his little rifle in bis hand — though
game was very scarce, xund found only in the neighbourhood of
8pring&
At the entrance of the village, '* the Landrost was received by
** a body of the boors on horseback, who welcomed him in their
" usual manner, by a discharge of several platoons of musketry,"
The commission of the landrost was formally announced, the oath
of allegiance to his Majesty taken — ^various other matters were
explained to the boors, and a general amnesty was declared. On
investigation it turned out that the only grievance the boors had
was, ** that the Kaffirs had invaded their district, with three or
*' t'ouv thousand head of cattle, and that the acting landrost had not
^* condescended to give any answer to a requisition made for a
** commando — that is, a detachment of farmers to make war upon
"the Kaffirs, and take away their cattle."
A modest request, truly, to be allowed to rob and then murder
the poor Kaffirs !
The acting landrost was a weak-minded man, and utterly
destitute of that manly courage so essential to the character of any
governor, in dealing with ^uch unprincipled rascals as were the
Dutch boors. Mr. Barrow would not be trifled with. He told
them that Lord Macartney had determined to put an end to the
commandos, which had occasioned so much ill-feeling and blood-
shed ; and that they, the Dutch boors, were looked upon as
plunderers. The boors were silenced by the firmness and deter-
mined spirit of Mr. Barrow — so that on the 1 1th of August he
proceeded on his way to Kaffirland. In the beginning of Septem-
ber, Mr. Barrow and his companions reached the Hassagaibosch
river, and were soon with the Kaffirs. Their approach was
announced by the whole surface of the country appearing in flames.
The women were the first to offer their salutations, laughing and
dancing, and putiang on all the coaxing manners they could invent*,
with the Tiew of getting tobacco and brass buttons for their
husbands. "Gk>od humour, animation, and a cheerful kind of
" mind l)eamed conspicuously in all their actions and countenances.
" They were modest without reserve, curious without being trouble-
*^ some; lively without impudence, and sportive without the leiiast
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'' shadow of la8civiou8ne8& Several were handsome. The whole
'' contour of the face and head was equally well formed with that
"of the European, which it resembled. They were mostly, how-
" ever, low in stature, strong-limbed, and very muscular in the leg."
Barrow appears to have been in ecstacies with the men, " who
*' were the finest specimens of the human figure I ever b^elcL"
They possessed firmness, courage, and an open, manly demeanour,
which added ^^to the good nature that illuminated their features,
'^ declared them at once to be equally unconscious of fear, suspicios,
" or treachery."
Mr. Barrow had an interview with some of the chie& of the
Kaffirs, and the result was, that he insisted that the boundary line
should be strictly observed by the colonists, and that the Kaffirs
should return over the Great Fish River, and settle peaceably m
their own country. The Elaffirs entreated his intercession with
Gaika, the king of the Kaffirs, whose displeasure they had incurred,
nnd promised that if a messenger of peace came direct from Gaika,
they would immediately return into their own country. In this
he was eminently successful. Gaika (who was a magnificent
specimen of the Kaffirs) yielding to the intercession of Mr. Barrow.
His next misfdon was over the Sneuwberg (the snow mountain)
to the Oi'ange River, and through the country of the poor Bosjes-
nian, or Bushmen. The country had been taken from them by the
boors, who had made their children slaves, and there, too, the
abominable commando expeditions had been carried on against these
miserable wretches, under the sanction of the Dutch government !
As in the case of the Kaffirs, so in the case of the poor Bosjesmans,
Lord Macartney had determined to crush the commando : and in
this Mr. Barrow was again successful.
The most important part of Mr. Barrow^s career was undoubt-
edly his connection with the Admiralty, which commenced soon
after his return from Africa, and in which department of our great
national establishments, he faithfully and honourably served the
state, for forty years, under thirteen difierent political administra-
tions, tory and whig. England, "this precious stone set in the
silver sea," owes much of its greatness to the efficiency of her navy.
In ancient times, the office of the AdmiraUy was csJled CuHodia
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marUime Anglim ; and the wovA Admiral va supposed to be derived
from admiraliuSy admvraUvs^ admircttisy capUanetui, or custoa
ma/risy from the French arnerely or from the Saxon asnmevealy over
all the sea. So say legal authorities. Literary authorities hold
that the word is merely a corruption of the Arabic Amir or Eftwry
a lord or chieftain : the al they regard as nothing more than the
Arabic definite article a/, — and that the word should be written
Ammiralf as Milton used it when speaking of Satan's spear.
>to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some gieat Ammtraly were but a wand."
During the whole of his career at the Admiralty, Barrow held
the office of second Secretary. He might have been first Secretary,
but owing to his unconquerable repugnance to entering Parliament,
he declined the honour — it being a rule after the year 1809, that
the first secretary should have a seat in the House of Commona
In politics, Barrow was a Tory of the old school, but not a strong
party man. Whatever his political views might be on public
questions, in the Admiralty, the only politics he cared about were
those calculated to serve the Admiralty — Whence he enjoyed the frdl
confidence of Whigs as well as Tories. Canning and Grey, Peel
and Melbourne, alike retained his services. A pleasing instance
of the estimation in which he was held by the Whig party is
recorded. When Mr. Grey was appointed first Lord of the
Admiralty, he was obliged to remove Barrow. This was a serious
matter to one who, as he tells us, '' with slender means had a
growing family to look up to him for support."
At Mr. Grey's request Barrow prepared a statement of his
public services, which was presented to the King in Council, and
the result was a pension ot £100 a-year.
The Whig Ministry had but a short reign. They introduced a
Reform Bill without consulting the King — they were dismissed,
the Tories reigned in their stead, and Barrow was replaced as
second Secretary, and so continued until the period of his voluntary
retirement in 1845.
We have only space to glazxoe at one or t^ro features in Sir
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John's career at the Admindiy. When liord Melville ww £rst
Lord, it was his oastom to visit the dockyards, and make a personal
inspection of every department, with a view to retrenchment
where needed, and to introduce comprehensive improvements where
necessary. On these occasions the second Secretary accompanied
the first Lord, and made notes in the visitation book, thns enabling
him ffpom personal inspection atd survey, to grasp all the details
under the cognizance of the Admiralty.
In 1828, the Duke of Clarence, afterwards King William the
Fourth, was appointed Lord High Admiral, and this generous,
warm-hearted Prince became a^ valued friend to Barrow, who was
in constant attendance on the Duke in all his visitations. During
the administration of Earl Grey, when Sir James Graham was
appointed first Lord of the Admiralty, Sir John was specially
pressed to retain his post as second Secretary^ in order ihat vast
and extensive reforms might be effectually carried. The plans
embraced not only the civil departments of the Admiralty in
London, but also the more complicated machinery of the dock-
yards. Sir John applied himself to his herculean task with inde-
fatigable industry — even to the serious injury of his health.
*' My old friends and colleagues rarely met me without the salu-
tation, * Bless me ! Barrow, how ill you look ! these Whigs will
be the death of you.' " The new bill, carrying out these changes,
was introduced into Parliament, where it met with severe oppo-
sition, but was ultimately carried. The new plan came into oper-
ation and proved eminently snccessfiiL When Sir James Graham
retired fi'om olfice he made this record of his estimate of Barrow's
services.
" With the permission of His Majesty, I write to promote his
" son Lieutenant William Barrow, to the rank of Commander, as
''a special favour, ^independent of the routine of promotion in
"such cases."
In the year 183/>, that eminent statesman. Sir Robert Peel,
when Prime Minister, proposed to the King to confer the distinc-
tion of Baronet upon Barrow. The King (William lY.) in his
reply to Sir Robert, expressing his approbation, said " And no
« one can admit more strongly than does his Msgesty, the claims
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** literary and scientafio and official, which are united in the person
" of his highly esteemed friend, Mh Barrow."
The following extract from Sir Bobert Peers letter will enable
the reader fdlly to appreciate the manner in which the honourable
distinction was bestowed : — ** The value of such a distinction
" depends mainly upon the grounds on which it is offered, and I
** cannot help flattering myself that probably an unsolicited, and
" probably unexpected honour conferred upon you by the King,
** on the double ground of eminence ia the pursuits of science and
** literature, and of long, most able, and most faithful public ser-
'* vices, will have, in the eyes of yourself your fietmily, and your
"posterity, a value which never can attach to much higher, when
** unmerited distinctions."
(To be coTUsluded in <yiir next,)
g?0at ijileif.
GEOBOE FOX.
[fboh '^boby's traditions of lakcashibb."]
[ooiroLtn>n> fbom ovb last.]
Thby scrambled up the ladder, entering the room appropriated to
their use'. It was low, and of scanty dimensions. The walls were
bare ; and the damp oozed through chinks and crevices, where the
wind met with slight interruption, though it clamoured unceasingly
ibt admission. The only furniture in the apartment was a low
bediitead, on which a straw mattress reposed in all the accumulated
filth of past ages. A coverlid of coarse woollen partly concealed a
suit of bed linen that would have stricken terror among a tribe of
Esquimaux. Neither party appeared wishful to tempt the mys-
teries that were yet unseen, or to divest himself of clothing. They
flung their lugga^^e on the floor, and sat upon it, each waiting the
first word of intercourse from his companion. After a while, there
was a heavy groan firom the Quaker; and Seaton, somewhat
hastily,, intimated his suspicions respecting the occupation and
pursuits of the party below.
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''I am of the like penniasion with thyself." was the reply.
*^ Verily, the warning was not in vain. This night may not* pass
ere faith shall have its test I have had a sore struggla Our
safety will be granted ; but through inward guidance rather than
our own endeavours. Yet must we use the means."
« I see no way of escape/' returned Beaton, ^ provided they be
what we have unhappily too good a cause to apprehend. Unarmed,
and without the means of defence^ how can we cope with men,
whose object, doubtless, with the robbery, will be the concealment
of their crime 1"
'< Follow my example. It is thine only chance for deliverance.
Question me not ; but be silent, and obey. I have said it."
While the speaker relapsed into one of his usual reveries, Seaton
cast his eyes inquiringly round the room. Their feeble light was
ready to expire. The rude gusts rocked the frail tenement '^ as if 't
had agues ;" and the walls groaned beneath their pressure. There
was a small casement, stuffed with paper and a matchless assort-
ment of party-coloured rags, near the roof, directly over the bed.
He ascended softly to examine the nature of this outlet ; but to
his further alarm, he found it guarded outside with iron bars.
This was a direct confirmation of his surmises. A cold shudder
crept over him. He. felt almost stiffening with horror, as he
looked down upon his thoughtful companion, doomed, he doubted
not, as well as himself, soon to fall a prey to the assassin. He
gazed wildly round the apartment, as with some desperate hope of
deliverance. His head grew dizzy ; objects seemed to Bit past
him ; and more than once he fancied that he heard footsteps were
creeping up the ladder. This acute burst of agony subsiding, he
listened to the short and rapid whirl of the wind, eddying by ; and
never had the sound fietUen upon his ear so fearfully. It seemed
like the wail of a departing spirit, or like some funeral dirge,
moaning heavily and deep through the sudden pauses of the blast.
He threw himself on the bed. Fatigue and long abstinence had
enervated his frame. Nature, forced almost beyond the limits of
endurance, had become passive, and almost incapable of suffering.
A deep slumber fell upon him, yet could he not escape the horrors
by which he was surrounded. Daggers reekiug in blood, spectres
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ooyered with hideous wouncUiy^iiiarderers on the racksy-^gibbets,
and ar thousand forms, shapeless and unimaginable, crowded past
with inconoeiyable rapidity. A huge figure approached. In its
hand a weapon was lifted up, as if to destroy him. He made a
yehement effort to escape ; but was withholden, without the power
of resistance. Just as it was descending he awoke. For awhile
he was unable to recollect, precisely, the nature of his situation.
The apairtment was quite dark. He groped confusedly about him,
but to no purpose. At that moment a ray seemed to glide from
the casement It was a moonbeam, struggling through the almost
impervious inlet By this light he beheld a figure, intently gazing
towards the window. At the first glance he did not recognize his
companion ; but, as he started from the couch, the former ap-
proached him, and laying one hand on his shoulder, whispered that
he should be still. He obeyed ; and remained motionless. The
reason for this admonition was soon apparent. He heard a slight
pattering at intervals, on the few brittle fragments which -the
window yet retained. Seaton at first thought it might be the
rain, especially as the wind had abated ; but he found there must
be some other cause, from the rattling of sand and other coarser
materials upon the floor and bed. He crept dose to the window,
looking out below, but was unable to find out the reason of this
disturbance. Suddenly, a volley of pebbles bounded past his £su3e,
and the moon shining forth at the same instant^ a figure was
distinguished^ anxiously attempting to arouse and excite their
attention. To his great astonishment, he recognized the wayward
being whose glance had startled him so disagreeably a few hours
before. He recollected the idiot's former signal, and felt convinced
that this was a more direct and friendly interference. Seaton
carefully pulled away a portion of the stuffing, and was thus
enabled to bring his head closer to the bars. This movement was
observed; and, with an admonition to silence, the strange creature
pointed to the ground, at the same time he appeared as if urging
them to escape. Seaton comprehended his meaning ; but the iron
fastenings were apparently an insurmountaUe impediment He
laid hold of one of the bars with considerable force ; and, to his
great joy, it yielded to the pressure. Apparently, there was no
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other mdiTidual beneathi or the friendly warning would not buve
been given. It seemed as if the tenants of the hovel were too
secure of their prej to set a watoh. He descended cautiously to
his companion. A few whispers were sufficient to convey the
intelligence. Again he mounted to the window ; and, on looking
down, found that their providential monitor had disappeared.
There was no time to be lost Seaton again tried the bar, and
succeeded in removing it Another, was soon wrenched from its
hold; and a few minutes more saw him safely through the aperture,
from which he let himself down with litde difficulty, to the ground.
His companion immediately followed ; and, once more outside
their lodging, a new difficulty presented itself Seaton knew of
no path than the one by which they had previously gained the
cottage ; and this would, in all probability, affi)rd a leading track
to their pursuers, who might be expected shortly to be aware of
their escape. But he was relieved from this dilemma by his com-
panion making a'signal that he should follow. ** Eemember thy
promise,'' said he. Seaton was prepared to obey, feeling a renewed
confidence in the discretion of his guide. Turning into the path-
way near the place where they had alighted, their course was
towards a river, which they beheld at no great distance twinkling
brightly in the moonbeams. They cautiously, yet rapidly pro-
ceeded down a narrow descent, fear hastening tlieir flight, for they
expected every moment to hear the footsteps of their punsuers.
In a little while they turned out of the road, and, by a circuitous
path, which the guide seemed to tread with unhesitating confidence,
they came to the river^s bank. By the brawling of its cun*ent,
and the appearance it presented, the water was evidently shallow,
and might be crossed without much difficulty. Seaton was pre-
paring to make the attempt, but was prevented by his comrada
<' I have some inward impression that we may not cross here.
We shall be pursued ; and our adversaries will naturally imagine
that we have passed over what is doubt]ess the ford of this Jordan.
I know not why, but we must follow its banks, and for some
distance, ere we pass.''
Seaton urged the danger and fblly of this proceeding, and pro-
posed crossing immediately, but met with a dedded and unflinohii\g
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refusal from liis oompanioiL They now kept along the iiTer^t
l>riiik, but Yiith difficulty. The rain having swollen the riveri they
were often forced to wade up to the knees, through the little creeks
and rivulets that intersected their path. They journeyed on for a
considerable time in silence, when the eider trayeller made a
sudden pause.
*' It is here/' said he. Seaton looked on the river ; but the
broad and deep wave rolled past with frightful, impetuosity. The
moonbeams glittered on a wide and rajnd flood, whose depths were
unknown, but to which, nevertheless, it seemed that they were on
the point of committing themselves.
^ The river is both wide and deep !" said the youth.
'' Nevertheless, we must cross," said his taciturn companion.
Without further parley, the latter plunged boldly into the stream.
Ui^ed on by his fears, and preferring death in any shape to the
fikte that was pursuing them, Seaton followed his exampla For
some time they struggled hard with the full sweep of the ciurent j
and it seemed little short of a miracle when they arrived, almost
breathless and exhausted on the opposite side.
*' Praised be His name who hath given us strength ! Though
deep waters have encompassed us, yet His arm is oui* deliverance.''
With a holy outpouring of soul, did this good man render
thanksgivings unto Him whose hand had been so visibly stretched
out for their protection. Just as he had made an end of speaking,
a distant but distinct howl was borne down upon the wind. They
listened eagerly, as the sound evidently grew nearer. It was like
the short but stifled cry of a hound in full chasa
'* Peril Cometh as a whirlwind," said George Fox ; " but fear
not,* — a way will be left for our escape !"
"It is that malicious hound T replied Seaton, shuddering as he
remembered the beast which had so intently gazed on him, and
which was evidently trained for the present purpose.
" We must climb ifp to those tall bushes with all speed," said
the companion of his flight, at the same time leading the way with
considerable haste and agility.
From this height they saw, at some distance up the river, three
men on horseback, preceded by a lai^e hound, who, true to tile
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■cent, was following steadily on their footsteps. They approached
rapidly to the plaee where the fugitives had gone over, when the
dog made a dead halt, and looked wistfully across.
^^Loo, loo/' said the foremost rider, ''hie on, lass !" But the
beast would not move.
" Sure now, Mike," said he, as the others came up, " if they 've
taken the water at this unlucky hole, they'll need no drownin' by
this, any how."
'< It's the brute, bad luck to her," replied his comrade. *^ She's
on the wrong scent Why, they are over the ford by this, and we
shall have the bloody thief-<»tchers here before we can open the
door for 'em."
" If the bitch had followed my nose, instead of her own beau-
tiful scent," said the remaining speaker, " we should ha' been over
the ford, too, long ago. They'd as soon think of swimming o'er
the bay in a cabbage-leaf, as cross at this place. Back, back ; and
we'll shoulder 'em yet, my darling& Come along, my boys;
— one of you take the ford, an' watch the road over the hill. Have
a care, now, that the rogues be not skulking round the bog. I'll
keep the road hereabout ; an' thou, Mike, lay to with the hound,
when thou art on the other side. May be, they'll not find it just
so easy to beat us in the hunting, while we have a leg to lay on
after them."
The worthy triumvirate here withdrew. The animal was, with
much difficulty, forced from her track ; but by the help of a stout
cord, she was draped off, yelping and whining, to the great joy of
their intended victims. Seaton could not but recognize the very
finger of Providence, which had pointed out the means of preser-
vation. No other way was left, apparently, for their escape.
Whatever course they had taken, save this, must have inevitably
thrown them into the very toils x)f their pursuers ; and he deter-
mined to follow, fearlessly and without question, the future impulses
of his companion. *
*' Shall we attempt to flee, or must we tarry here a space 1 " he
hesitatingly inquired.
** Nay, friend," said his guide, "I wis not yet what we shall do ;
but, methinks, we are to abide here until morning 1"
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fliateftiUTMecLat thisintimatioii. His dothei were drenoliedi'
and his whole framd stiffened and benumbed with cold. Hk
positioii, too, crouohing amongst decayed branohes and alder twigs,
was none of the most eligible or easy to sustain. He felt fully
reBolved, however, to follow the leadings of his friend, being eon*
yinced that his ultimate safety depended on a strict adherence to
this determination.
The country was very thinly inhabited, and their enemies were
in possession of the only outlets by which they could escape to the
nearest village. Aided, too. by the sagacity of the dog their track
would inevitably be discovered before daylight enabled them to find
sheltei^. These considerations were too important to be overlooked,
and Seaton quietly resolved to make himself as comfortable as cir-
cunatancee would permit. He wrung out the wet from his clothes,
chafed his limbs, and, ere long, to his inexpressible relief, the first
symptoms of the dawn were visible in the east Just as the glow-
ing rim of light was gliding above the horizon, they ventured to
peep forth, cautiously, from their retreat. To their great mortifi-
cation, they saw, at a considerable distance, a horseman, stationed
on the bn;>w of a neighbouring hill, evidently for the purpose of a
more extended scrutiny. Signals would inevitably betray their ^
route, should they emerge from their concealment ; and escape now
seemed as hopeless as ever.
In this fresh difficulty, Seaton agarn sought counsel from his
friend, who replied with great earnestness —
" There is yet another and a more grievous trial /' — he lifted up
his eyes, darkening already with the energy of his spirit ; — *' but,
I trust, our deliverauce draweth nigh. We must return !"
^ Return !" cried Seaton, his lips quivering with amazement,
« Whither ? Not to the den we have just left T
" Even so," said the other, with great composura
"Then all hope is lost," mournfully returned the inquirer.
'< Nay, replied his companion, ^^ but let me ask what chance, even
according to thine own natural and unaided sense, there is pf
deliverance in our present condition 1 H^nmed in on every hand,
without a guide, and strangers to the path we should take^ if the
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watohman from the Ull mm our track, tbere k the hound upon
our Boent 1"
There was no gainsayizig these suggestions ; but still a proposal
that they should return to the cabin, whence they had with such
pains and difficulty made their escape, in itself was so absurd and
inexplicable a piece of manoeuvring, that common sense and com-
mon prudence alike forbade the attempt. Yet, on the other hand,
common sense and common prudence appeared to be equally
unavailing, as to any mode of escape from the toils in which they
were entangled.
Again he determined to follow his friend's guidance ; who, address-
ing himself immediately to the task, made the best of his way to
the ford which he had refused to cross the preceding night They
now took the direct road to the house. The morning was sharp
and clear. Seaton felt the cold and raw atmosphere cling to his
frame, already chilled to an alarming degree, but the excitation he
had undergone prevented further mischief than the temporary
inconvenience he then suffered. As they came nearer to the hut,
his very faculties seemed to escape from his control. A sense of
danger, imminent and almost insupportable, came upon him.
Bewildered, and actuated with that unaccountable but instinctive
desperation, which urges on to some inevitable doom, he rushed
wildly into the dwelling. It was not as they had left it. Several
horses were standing quietly by the door ; and a party, who had
merely called for the purpose of half-an-hour's rest and refreshment,
were then making preparations to depart Seaton took one of them
aside, and disclosed the terrible circumstances we have related. By
a judicious, but prompt, application of the forces, they prevented
anyone from leaving the house, and were prepared to seize all who
should return thither. A close Hoarch soon betrayed the quality
and calling of its inmates. A vast hoard of plunder was discovered,
and proofs, too abundant, were found, that deeds had been perpe-
trated of which we forbear the recital. The old woman was seized ;
and her capture was followed by the apprehension of the whole
gang, who, shortly after met with the retribution merited by their
crimes.
The maniac proved to be a son of the old beldame. At times,
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the cloud unhappOj clearing from his mental vision, had left him
for a short space fearfully cognizant of the transactions he was then
doomed to witness. On that night to which our history refers, a
sudden providential gleam of intelligence flashed upon him, and an
unknown impulse prompted his interference in behalf of the unfor-
tunate, and, as he thought, unsuspecting victims. Ere leaving the
country, they saw him comfortably provided for ; and, as &r as the
nature of his malady would permit^ his mind was soothed, and his
darkest moments partly relieved from the horrors which humanity
alone coidd mitigate, but not prevent
Mhi MiW^ §ifiik-(l!>ix$t
Thb Songs and Ballads of Cuhbebbland.* — Popular ballads^
as Hallam, the historian, justly observes, are ''the reflex of the con-
ditions and opinions of the people,'' and we believe it was Lord
Brougham who said — '' Let me have the writing of the ballads
of the country, and while I place at your command every other
species of composition, I will fix public opinion and rule public
feeling, and sway the popular sentiment more powerfully than all
your writers, political and moral, can do by any other ^ency or
influence." That this is true, we firmly believe, and we congratu-
late our late townsman, Mr. Qeorge Coward, on the production of
his very beautiful edition of the Songs and Ballads of Cumberland.
The volume before us is valuable in many respects — ^not only does
it present us with accurate and life-like pictures of the manners and
customs of our rural population, their Bridwains, Upshots, and
Murry-neets, but from its pages the linguist and ethnologist may
gather a fund of information. What better evidence could be
given of the great prevalence of the old Norse element in Cumber-
land, than in Anderson's verse on the Scandinavian suffix by or (ye,
* The Songs and Ballads of Cumberland, to which are added dialect and
other poems, with biographical sketches notes, and glossary. Edited by-
Sidney Giluiu. Carlisle : Geor^ Coward. London : George Routledge and
Sons. Edmburgh : John Menzies.
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'' nate^B Hanaby and Tanit^,
And Wigganby beside ;
There's Oughterby and Soughterby,
And bys beath far and wide."
Or on the prefix cumf in our old favourite ** Sally Grey/' which we
remember hearing our grandmother sing —
** There's Oumwhitton, Oumwhinton, Omnranton,
Gumiangen, Oomrew, and Oumcatch,
And mony mair ''Gums" V the county^
But nin wi' Oumdivock can match."
As a matter of course, in a fasciculus of ballads like the one
under notice, tiie poems are of various and unequial merit They
are arranged under the names of their respective authors; and first
on the list we have the daesical songs and pastoral poems of Relph
of Sebergham, with a short biographical sketch by Southey. Next
we have songs and ballads by^ Miss Blamire and Miss Gilpin, Ewan
Olark, Stagg, the Hind bard, l^rk Lonsdale, Robert Anderson,
John Rayson, J. W. Graves, The author of << Joe and the G^logist^"
William Wordsworth, a few <^ Border Ballads,'' and about a score
of '< Miscellaneous Bongs."^ The Umited space at our disposal, for-
bids our quoting much £rom this interesting collection. We cannot
refrain, however, from reproducing one fisbvourite, written by a
gentleman from whose pen issued the poem which graced our first
number.
LAL DINAH ORATSOK.
Lai Dinah Grayson's fresh, fewsome, an' free
Wid a lilt iv her step an' a glent iv her e'e ;
She glowers ebbem at m6 whativer I say,
An' mekstly mak's answer wid " M'appen I may !"
"M'appen I may," she says, "m'appen I may;
Thou thinks I belieye th^ an' m'appen I may !"
Gay ofien, when Dinah I manish to meet
0' Mondays, i't' market i' Oockermuth street^
I whisper, ''Thou's nicer nor owte here to-day,"
An' she cocks up her chin an' says, '' M'appen I may !
M'appen I may, my lad, m'appen I may ;
There's nowte here to crack on, an' m'appen I nu^."
She's smart oot o' dooars-Hshe's tidy i't' hoose ;
Snoid as a mowdy-waxp-Hileek as a mooia
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r lln^gooi^ i' Wa<Ac^{o<»,f ^;nell|;oOl^ w
I tell her she's re^t^ aa' git "M'lqypen I maj,
<*M'appenI DUQr," she'll saj, ^'m'appeii I maj,
Thoa kens lal ahoot it> but m'appen I maj,
There's nut micUe on h«r,— we ken 'at god Itoff
Laps up i' lal bandies, an' she's lal aneof ;
There's nowte aboot I>hiah irere better away
But her comical ower-wurd ** M'appen I maj.*
*' M'appen I may," ifs still ''m'appen I maj,"
Whativer yan wants, yan gtts ''m'appen I may 1*
An' it shaps to be jmiittal ; whoariver I gang^
I can't tdl a stwoiy-^ can't sing a sang^
I cant hod a^rsd^ nay 1— I can't read nor priy
Widoutbringing in her duigt " M'appen I msy."
" M'appen I may," it cums, " m'appen I may ;"
Asteed of Amen, I say, "m'appen I may,"
But she met me ya neeght aside Pards'awLea yatt*
I took he sel^h^m, but I keept her oot le^t^
An' offen I said, i' my can canny way,
"Will t% like me a lal bit ?"— " Whey,— M'appen I may 1
M'appen I may, Hany— m'appen I may ;
Thou's rayder a hoaf-thick, but m'iq>pen I may 1*
I prist her to wed m^I said I was pooar.
Just eddUn' aneuf to keep hunger frayf dooar.
She leok't i' my fel^e, an' than, hoaf tomt away.
She hung doon her hdd, and said " M'lq^pen I may !
M'appen I may"— Gov doon)— m'^ypen 1 may,
I think thou means fairly, an' m'appen I may."
We're hiogin' i't' bell r^ps— to t' parson Pve toket^
An' I gey him a hint, as he maffelt an' jowket,
To mind, when she sud say " love, honour, obey,
'At she doesn't slip through wid her " M'appen I may."
M'appen I may, may be— m'appen I may,
But we moont put up than wid a "m'a^^en I may.
n
The volume is printed in a dear bold type, is handspmely got up,
and a portrait of Miss Blamire is given as frontispiece. The editor,
Mr. Sidney Gilpin, has well performed his part, and has judiciously
omitted a few poems of Anderson's, whicli, for obvioi;i8 re9«oii%
w»re best lost sight o£ We are sorry, however, to miss a few of
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the more ancient ballads of Camberland, especially one wMdi lias
been deemed worthy of notice by Shakespear, Ben Jonson, and Sir
William Davenant We allude to "Adam Bell, Clym of the
Cloogh, and William of Cloudesley/' three ^'bold outlaws," the scene
of whose exploits lay in and around Carlisle, and by whose means^
" Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe,
And the mayie of Oarleile toim
Of all the constables and catchipolles
Alive were "scant" left one."
We have every confidence in reconmiending the book to our
readers, and we trust that, ere long, the Songs and Ballads of
Cumberland may become, to the population of that great county,
what the songs of Edwin Waugh are to the people of Lancashire^
" Familiar in their mouths as household words."
(Siimt»pnAtnu.
THE YIPER.
To the Editor of the North LonidaU Magaaine,
Sib, — I perceive that no reply has been made in your October
number to your request for authentic testimony as to the fact of
the viper^s young taking refuge, on an alarm, within the mother.
The vipeTy I believe, is not the^serpent which thus affords shelter
for its young ; but the more harmless black enake. I once, in
early life, most distinctly and unmistakably witnessed the phoenome-
non. Two of us suddenly came upon a couple of these snakes^
when we sayr a small number of young ones enter the mouth of one
of them, and we were so struck with the sight that we both stood as
if chained to the spot, until they made their escape.
Yours, very truly, T. H. R
Octr. 24th, 1866.
p.S. — Some naturalist alleges that this serpent (the female) is
provided with a pouch for the purpose.
[Our correspondent is in error respecting the Uack snake. It does
not occur in Britain : we have only the green one (Natrix tor-
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^[uaiaj, locally oalled Hag^wornii and the imall crowned imooth
snake^ (OofoneUa lewis J. The latter has not yet been found in
this district . Of the viper we have three yarietiee, the white,
brown, and black, which are all natives of Famess ; but the blaek
one is exceedingly rare. — Ed. N. Z. Ai.]
YARIETIES.
'^Frorn grave to gay, from lively to severe."
ENIOICATIOAL LIST OF TOWNS.
1. The beginning of a circle, the rival of nature, myself, and the
end of all — Garimel.
2. The two extremities of universal, four-fifths of a poet's stock-
in-trade, and half of a scold's weapon — Ulverstan.
3. Two-fifths of a male animal wearing stays, the first letter of
last, the last letter of firsts and two-thirds of a number tbat cannot
be divided — Dalton.
4. Two-fifbhs of what every maid wishes to be, the first letter
of a bird that cannot fiy, the second letter of a fish that cannot
swim, the end of a planet that never shines, the head of what has
no body, and tbe second and last letter but one of a plant that
never grows — BroughUm,
5. The head of a bird of prey — Ha/uokakead,
MONTHLY SUMMARY OF LOCAL EVENTS.
[The re-consecration of the Ulverston Parish Church took place
yesterday (Oct. 31st). Li our next will appear a full account
^ of the proceedings, with a sketch of the history of the church.]
The Ellebs Cotton Mill. — We understand that the EUers
Mill, or High Mill, as it is generally called, was disposed of by
private treaty, on the 24th ult. The purchaser is Mr. Henry
Dickinson, of Dalton-gate, who acts on behalf of a few gentlemen
of the town. The intention is to resume -and carry on cotton
spinning under a limited liability company.
Thb Incorporation op Barrow. — ^Commissioner's Inquiry. —
Captain Donnelly, R.E., held an inquiry on the 12th ult, in the
Town Hall, Barrow, relative to the petition sent up to the privy
council some time ago, praying for a charter of incorporation for
the town of Barrow, There was a large attendance of property
owners and tradesmen in the town. Several witnesses were
examined, and they were generally favourable to the town being
incorporated
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m
VisynsMPOs Ttansr XtsAPiKa&-*-Tho first moeting of the pre-
sent season of Penny Iteadings was inaugurated on tbe 6t& tdt,
under the presidency of the Rev. Oonon Q-willjm. ^hefe was a
krge attendance.
Metbbolooioal. — ^The fall of rain in UlverstoU) during Septem-
ber, was 9-16 inches. The heayiest &U in 24 hoiuns occinrred <m
the 5th, and the amount registered was 1 - 00 incL Rain 33 days.
— The rain-fall as registered in Holker Gardens was 8 -7 37 in. The
greatest fall in 24 hours was 1 071 in. The number of rainy days,
28. The highest temperature was TO'', and the lowest 4P.
TftusTBBS ov Town Lands.— A yestry meeting was held in
XJlverston on the 28th of September, at which th^ following gen-
tlemen were elected as trustees of the town lands — Myles !Eleiinedy,
J. S. Satterthwaite, George llemington, T. Woodburne, and S. H.
Jackson^ Esquires.
G&AND English Opeba. — On the 15th ultimo, a first-class
opera company commenced a week's engagement in the Victoria
Concert EtkU, XJlverston, under the management of our bo\^n3maD,
Mr. Kobert Oasson. The programme for the week consinted! of
the following operas : — La Sonnambula, Norma, Martha, Bohemian
Girl, Don Qioyanni, and II Trovatore. There was a large attend-
ance every night.
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Books Heobiyitd—'' Vegetation and the Bible."
T. H. R.— A Tributary Record— in our next
Th]9 No]»tu LoffSDALV MAaA23KE may be obljiined of the Agents and Book-
BoUers la the district, but i^ould any subscriber prefer i^ or ein>erience any
difficulty or delay in receiving the work^ he may ensure punctual dcdiveiy
by having it posted regularly from the office.
All communications which do not bear the real name and address of the writer
will not be noticed— this is insisted upon— not so mudi for publication
unless desired, but as a satisfactoiy guarantee.
We shall b^ happy to receive information respecting the past history of ^
district old customs, remarkable &cts, old local mUlads, epiti^hs, or any-
thing bearing upon the plan of our work, whether quaint, amusing,
scientific, or otherwise.
All contributions and articles for insertion should be written upon one sida
only ; printers object to ** copy " written upon both sides of the paper.
The editor cannot pledge himself to return rejected manuscripts.
• • - • ■ III ■ ■ ■ . .. ^ .
FrvntediUthe ^^AdverHser^ Office^ The GUI, UlveNian,
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TH£
arnMt ^Ai^mm,
AND LAKE DISTMOT MKOELLAHY,
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MORRIS, P.A.8.L.
No. 6. DECEMBER, 1866. • Vol. I.
^vtMt §,nikx0pU^^.
WERE THE ANCIENT BRITONS IRON MINERS ]
It has hitherto been deemed orthodox to believe that when the
Romans first visited Britain, they found it inhabited by a race of
painted savages, unacquainted with the arts, and in the habit of
offering up human sacrifices in wicker idols to some imaginary
deity. A reactionary idea has now, however, entered the minds
of many — and evidences of ancient British industrial arts are,
through the labours of the archsBologist, &st accumulating, which
clearly prove that our early forefathers were not so utterly uncivil-
ized as has too readily been supposed.
That the ancient Britons were possessed of a knowledge of the
metallurgy of iron has up to the present time, we believe, escaped
the observation of antiquarians; but, that they possessed weapons
and implements of that metal is readily admitted, yet, so far
as we know, the question has never arisen — from whence were
they obtained) Our object in introducing this sulgict, is to
direct the attention of archaeologists to this most interesting
enquiry. The evidence we have to offer is as yet but slight, still
it is of such a character as to warrant recording.
That the Romans introduced into this country experienced
metallurgists, there can be no doubt; and that they engaged
extensively in mining operations is also equally certain, as Roman
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ooinfl, amphonSy &c, are frequently found in the ancient workings
of the Welch border. Julius Csssar, in his commentaries, expressly
states that the ^ iidand also produces iron.'' Such being the case,
we may reasonably ask, how, or by what means Caesar, d<iring his
short stay, ascertained the existence of iron, if not from fiatwe
metallurgists 1 and the inference may fairly be drawn that the
ancient Britons, under favourable circumstances, were iron miners,
Mr. Robert Hunt, of the Qovemment School of Mines, in a note
to the writer, says — **I do not believe the BritonB mined — ^they
gathered ores from the surface and smelted it very rudely." But
if thia were so, to whom must we ascribe the ancient deep workings
so frequently met with in Fumess f We think, from the evidence
we have to offer on this point, we shall be able to shew that they
are of pre-Roman origin.
Some years ago, in driving a level from the foot of a shaft at
Stainton, one of the *'old men's workings" was discovered, and
within it, in front- of a breast of ore, two polished stone celts of the
usual type were found, and a rude implement of iron. One of the
celts is now in the possession of Mr. S. H. Jackson, solicitor, of
(Jlverston. The question now arises, <' Did the Romans use stone
implements )" We think not. The use' of metals was too well
known to them, for us to suppose that they were ever reduced to
such a contingency. It is said that during the early Englif^ period,
stone implements were in use ; and that at the battle of Flodden
Field, stone mauls played an important part, but the authority is
doubtful In the Times of September 10th, 1862, an article
appeared on some explorations of an ancient British settlement on
the Cheviot Hills, in which the writer says-—" The discovery also
of pieces of iron slag furnishes a new view of Celtic life, as a general
impression prevails among antiquarians that the ancient Britons
were unacquainted with the art of smelting." In our August
number of this magazine, we briefly noticed the discovery of a
human calvarium in a deposit of iron ore, at the lire pits, near
Lindal. The skull, as we then stated, was found at a depth of
thirty-three yards, in what is locally called an "old men's working,"
and as we have hitherto had no reliable evidence by whom these
workings were made, this discovery of the skull is of the highest
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impvrtMHiej espeoidfly if It exhibitfl any racial charaeters^ or p6ctdi-
arities by which it may be identified. '^During the 'lengthened
'^ and minute investigation of ancient British skulls/' says Dr. J.
Bacnard Davis. ** to wliich I have been impelled in the preparation
" of the Orania Brttannioa^ I have been frequently struck with a
^^ peculiar flatness in the occipital region, prevailing among them.
** It often extends over a good part of the parietals, itbotit the pos-
" terior portion of the sagittal suture, and over the upper part of
** i^e occipital bone. Hence I have denominated it parieto-ocdpUal
*^JicUne88"* Now the skull before us presents this peculiarity in a
high degree — ^the large triangular depression, by ita singularity,
amests the attention of the most superficial observer. Another
point in which it resembles the ancient British type^ is its enormous
brachycephaly,t — the greatest length being 7in. and the width 6*3,
tke cephalic index therefore, assuming the longitudinal diameter to
be 100, equals 90, which is much higher than any figured in
tbe Orania Britannica. We believe it was Dr. Gosse who first
pcHnted' out that the cause of this singular parieto-oceipital fiatuess
wvfts due to the use of an unyielding cradle-board, and this has been
oonfirmed by Dr. Davis, in the article from which we have before
quoted, and also by Dr. Thumam, in his article on <^ The Principal
« Forms of Ancient British and Gaulish Skulls,''^ where he says,
" The ancient Britons, were, to a great extent, a nomadic people,
'' and probably enough used a solid and flat cradle, on which their
<* infants might be secured to the back) and eafely tnuuiported from
'' plaee to place." On this p<»int we think we have opnclubive
evidence, — evidence which, so far as we know, hae never yet been
iMTOught to bear upon the question^ and which fully confirms^ In a
moBt satisfactory manner, our opinion that we have a veritable
ancient British skull before us. .Shortly after the discovery of the
(Hranium, we received (through the kindness of Mr. W. Salmon,
* Natural Histuiy Review, vol. II, page 290.
t When the transverse diameter is less than seven-tenths of the antero-
posterior, the skull is o6^on^ or dolichocephalic ; when the transverse diameter
u from seven-tenths to eight-tenths of the length, it is oval; audi when «iore
than eight-tenths, it is round or brachycephuic.— Prof, iluxl^ in JMLedioal
Times and Gazette, 26th March, 1864.
$ Memoirs of tbe Anthropological Society, yoVli pdge 157.
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F.O.S., from whom we also bid the skull,) a few more bones from
the same pit, and amongst which was a sixth cervical vertebra,
presenting unmistakeable proofis that a cradle-board had been used.
Assuming an infant to be strapped down to an unyielding body,
the natural result would be — ^that not only the posterior portion of
the head would be compressed, but also those vertebra with the
longest spinous processea And so it is with the example before us.
The bifurcation for muscular insertion, at the summit of the spine
is very rudimentary, and thrown to one side by the extensive
lateral cui'vature — and, as in the skull, the flatness is greater on
the right side, so in the vertebra, the curvature is to the left. This
peculiarity is no doubt owing to our subject, when a child, having
been nourished at the left breast of his mother, and he has there-
fore been bound down to his cradle-board with an inclination to
the right. Considering the depth at which these remains were
found, it may be urged as an objection to our theory — What
evidence have we that the ancient Britons were possessed of the
mechanical powers to bore so far below the surface f Our answer
to this is, that we see no greater difficulty in boring the earth
thirty-three yards, than in raising the megalithio columns of
Stonehenge ; and from the evidence this stupendous monument
affords us, we may naturally infer that our early ancestors were not
that race of painted savages we have so long believed them to be.
[Dr. John Thumam, to whom we sent a proof of the above article,
says, '' The great breadth of the skull is very remarkabla Such
'* brachycephaly is most exceptional in any class of skulls, and so
''far as my experience goes, unprecedented among the ancient
'* Britons." We also sent a proof to Dr. J. Barnard Davis, who
in a note to the writer, says — •* I have read your article with
<' much pleasure. I have no doubt that the skull is that of an
•* cmderU Briton, Hence I consider your argument to be con-
'' clusiva I am glad of any attempt to raise our estimate of the
"ancient Britons. With such a fine cerebi-al organization, they
" must have been a very superior people — ^a good deal slandered
" and belied by the vain classical nations, to whom they were
^ outer bitrbarianSf as we are to the Chinese.''
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We have also reoeived the following from one of oar highest
continental authorities, Dr. Pruner-bej, of Paris :—
" Place St Victor, 28.
'^ Most excellent Sir and Colleague,
<< My hearty thanks to you, sir, for the kindness you
** had to address to me your most important article on Archaic
** Anthropology, and the still more interesting photographs of a
'' brachycephalic, and, as it seems, artificially deformed skull
** About this last character, it might not be without import-
*^ ance to verify, first of all, if the position of the skull and the
'' weight of the superincumbent earth and other materials have
'* not been able to produce such an aberrant form and exaggeiuted
" brachycephalism."
" However this may be, it is very eaay to establish, by the
" upper border of the 0/ frontalis, as well as by that of the whole
" lambdoid suture, which represents a triangle, that the skull
" was originally brachycephalia
''After these statements, there comes the most essential
" question, viz , to wl^at group of brachycephalic skulls this one
" is belonging. For indeed we have delineated many specimens
" of brachycephalic skulls found in the tumuli of Britain, &c. ;
" which belong entirely to the Aryan race, be they of German
" origin, as it is in part with the Belgian, or perhaps even Celtic,
''as M.M. B. Davis and Thumam incline to think.
" But there is the other class of brachycephali, more ancient
" than these last, representing man as he was at the periods by
" much more ancient than the tumuli. Well, it seems to me,
" that your calvarium might belong to this last class. Still it
" will be advisable to arrest judgment till I shall be able to get,
" by your kindness, a good plaster cast, which shall be a very
" valuable gift to our society in Paris.
"I shall consider it as my duty, to address to you, afterwards,
"a report on the result of my observations on this interesting
" skull, and to entertain particularly our society here about it.
"I beg you to accept my thanks, and the assurance of the
''sincere gratitude of| yours, respec^Uy,
"P. Pbumibb-bby."
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In a note also to.a. friend in London (0. C. Blake, Esq.), Dr.
Pniner-bey mxys^-^^ I thank yoa Bpeciallj for the kindness jou
<< bad| riftf to. put me in comn^unication with M. J. P. Morris,
<' (Ulverston). It seems* to me, as much as I can judge from the
" photographsi that the calvarium from the pits, interesting in
''many viawS) may bebng to the pre-Celtic bnachyoephali, dif-
c^fereotfrom alnuMitiall the hrachyoephali described and delineated
'' by the two eminent eoileaguea, B. Davis and ThumaoL That
''such ancient skulls, belonging to the descendants of the Eein-
"' deer-People exist in Scotland, is a fact. About Britain the
"matter is stiU far from being elucidated : but I hope it will be
'< cleared up soon by your endeayours.'']
giiitvm^ (B^up.
A PHILOSOPHICAL ROMANCE,
BY A PHIL080FHEB.
By the Bevd, Henry Nod-Feam, M.A.; F.B.S,
[OONOLVnEI) FROM OITB LAST.]
One day, two of the ship's company were bidden to a " feast of the
family," as the natives termed it ; which is an honour granted by
the state to any one who shall live to see thirty descendants from
his own body, all alive together. The father of the femily, who is
called the tirsan, two days before the feast, — together with three
friends and the governor of the place where the feast is to be held,
and attended by all the members of the &.mily of both sexes, sits
in consultation upon family affairs. On this occasion all disputes
are settled, directions given concerning marriages, and so forth; the
governor lending his public authority to enforce the decisions of the
tirsan. On the feast day, after divine seiTice, the tirsan is con-
ducted into a large room, where a chair of state is placed for him,
with an ornament above it, silver and silk embroidered with ivy by
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•oma of the daitght«n of the fatnuly. The patriarch is preceded bj
all the males of Im house, aad followed bj all the femalea If the
mother «e well as the &ther be alive, she in placed in a galleiy
above her husband's chair, which looks through a window into the
hall below, and where ake m9j sit and see, but not be seen. When
he is set^ a heiuld makes his appearance, accompanied by two
children, of whom one carries a scroll of yellow parchment, and the
other a bun^ of golden grape& The scroll is the king's charter,
containing a gift of revenue, aad many privileges giunted to the
faUier of the £stmily whom the king styles his well-beloved friend
and creditor ; *' which is a title proper only to this case, for the
king is debtor to no man, but for the propagation of his subjects."
Afber reading the chai'ter, the herald presents the grapes, whidi,
if the males of the £uuily are the greater in number, are an
enamelled purple, — if the females, a greenish yellow. This golden
cluster the tirsan delivers over to the son whom he has chosen to
dwell with him, who ever afber bears it before his father, whenever
he goes into public, and is therefore called the son of the vine. The
tirsan tiien dines, and is served by his own sons upon bended knee :
and at a lower part of the hall, the gucbts who are bidden also
partake c^a repast Towards the close, a hymn is sung, the subject
of which is the praises of Adam and Noah, who are the progenitor?
of all men, and of Abraham, the fietther of the faithful, concluding
with a thanksgiving for the nativity of our Saviour, ''m whose
birth the births of all are only blessed." Dinner being over, the
tirsan retires to private prayer, after which he comes forth to bless
his descendants. One by one, as they are called, they approach
and kneel down before their father, who lays his hand upon the
head of each, and blesses him in the Holy Trinity ; adding a few
special words to any one of them who may chance to be of any
eminent merit or virtua
Among others with whom the writer met in the island, was a
Jewl, named Jaobin, who gave it as his belief that the inhabitants
of Bensalem were descended from Abraham by a son named Nac-
horan, and that the laws which they observed were derived fi*om
Moses ; he declared, too, that there was a tradition, according to
'Whiohi ^en Messiah should c6me and.sit.in ilia throne at Jerusa-
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lemi the king of Benaalem should sit at His feet^ whereas all other
kings should be kept at a distance. Jaobin also praises the
islanders for their great chastity, and expresses great wonder and
horror at the immoralitj so common in Europe ; and relates a
custom that prevails at Bensalem, that before marriage a man and
woman should bathe, the former in a pool called Adam's pool, the
latter in Eve's pool, in the presence of friends of both parties, lest
there should be any hidden defect in either, which might prevent
that happiness which they look for in each other.
The day after that on which this conversation was held, the Jew
called upon our travellers, and told them that for the first time for
the last dozen years, one of the fathers of Solomon's House was
about to make a state-entry into the city on that day week ; and
he proposed to get for the strangers a good standing-place to see
the procession. On the day appointed he came, with much splen-
dour and a numerous and magnificent retinue. As he passed along,
he held up his hand in silence, as blessing the people. Three days
after, the Jew came again, and congratulated them on the great
happiness that awaited them ; for the father of Solomon's House
having heard of their being in the city, proposed to admit the whole
company to his presence, and to have private conference with any
one whom they might select from among themselves, and to give
them his blessing. On the day but one following, at the appointed
hour, they presented themselves at his lodging. They found him
sitting upon a low throne, with two pages of honour, one on either
side. When they drew near, he rose and held out his hand in the
posture of blessing ; and every one stooped down and kissed the
hem of his garment. That done, the rest departed, and our
traveller remained. The pages, too, were ordered to retii-e, and
the great man caused the author to sit down beside him, and began
to address him in the Spanish tongue.
"God bless thee, my son," he began, " I will give thee the greatest
jewel I have ; for I will impart imto thee, for the love of God and
men, a relation of the true state of Solomon's House." He pro-
posed to divide his discourse into four parts ; ''first the end of the
foundation of the society ; secondly, the preparations and instm-
ments they had for their works ; thirdly, the several employments
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and fuDClious whereto the fellows were absigned ; and, fourthly, the
ordinances and rites which they observed.
The end of the formation he defined to be the knowledge of
causes and secret motions of things, and the enlarging of the bounds
of human empire, to the ejecting of all things possible.
The pre|)arations and instruments were numerous. They had
caves of great depth ; some of them being sunk so far as six hundred
fathoms : these they used for coagulations, refrigerations, and con-
servations of bodies ;'' for the artificial production of metals ; for
curing of diseases and the prolongation of life. Then they had
high towers, the highest about half-a-mile in height, for the
observation of different meteors, winds, rain, snow, hail, <fec. Upon
these, in some places, dwell hepnits, whom the Withers of the House
sometimes visit, and instruct what to observa They had also
great lakes, both salt and fresh, for fish and fowl ; and pools where
they turned salt water into fresh, or fresh into salt : also violent
streams and cataracts, which supplied them with many motions and
engines, " for multiplying and enforcing the wind&" There were,
moreover, artificial cells and fountains, impregnated with the
virtues of different minerals ; and among them "a water of paradise,''
very sovereign for health and the prolongation of life. ** They
knew, too, how to " imitate snow, hail, and rain, thunders and
lightnings ; how to produce frogs, flies, and divers others ;" how to
graft trees, to force fruits, and to improve their tast*, smell, colour,
and figure, as they desired ; how to make divers plants arise by
mixtures of earth without seeds ; to make divers new plants differ-
ing from the vulgar, and to make one tree or plant turn into
another." They had, too, perspective-houses, for experiments in
light, in which they could represent all colours in things themselves
uncoloured and transparent ; where they could produce artificial
rainbows and haloes, and circles about light, and represent all
manner of reflections, refractions, and multiplication of visual beams
of objects."
Sound-houses, too, they had, for the demonstration of all sounds
and their generation, and the imitation of all articulate sounds and
letters, and the voices and notes of beasts and birds : perfume-
houses, for making all smells to breathe out of other mixtures than
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those that gire them : engme-houaes for the preparation of engioeB
and instruments for all sorts pf motions, of new mixtures and o(Mn-
positions of gunpowder and wildfires burning in water, and
unquenchable (like the celebrated Greek fire). They knew how to
fly in the air : they had ships and boats made to go under water ;
moving images of men, beasts, birds, fishes, and serpents ; and ''a
great number of other various motions, strange for quality, fineness,
and subtilty."
The several employments and. offices of the iellaws of Solomon's
House were as foUow& There were twelve whose duty it was to
sail to foreign countries under the names of other nations (for they
concealed their own), and to bring back ''books and patterns^
experiments, and abstracts, firom all other parte." These are
called ** merchants of light " Then there were three, called ''depre-
dators,'' who "collected the experiments which are in all books ;"
three, called " mystery men," who collected the experiments in
mechanical arts and the liberal sciences ; three, called " pioneers,"
or "miners," who tried new experiments; three, called "oompilers,"
who arranged the results at which the former twelve had arrived,
in tabular forms, easy to be understood; three, called "dowry men,"
or " bene&ctors," whose object it is to derive from what the otbera
have learned, something for the good and the benefit of mankind ;
three, called " lamps," who consider what ihe others have done, and
direct "new experiments of a higher light more penetrating into
nature than ihe former;" three, called "inoeulators," who "execute
these experements and report them ;" and, lastly, three, called
" interpreters of nature," who " raise the former discoveries by
experiments into greater observations, axioms, and aphorisms."
There are also many novices and apprentices, and many servants
and attendants, both men and women.
For their ordinances and rites, they had two very lonpf and fidr
galleries, filled with the statues of the greatest inventors in the
world. They celebrated each day the praises of Gkxi for His mar-
vellous works, and implored His blessing upon their labours, and
prayed that He would direct them to good and holy uses. They
also made periodical vkdte to the difierent parts of the kingdom,
when they proi^med euoh new inventions as they thought
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expedient, and waned the people againet 8uoh.calamitie»~-*plague0,
&mine, earthquake, and Buch lik&— as hj their skUI ikej saw were
ajx>ut to come upon them.
Having concluded thia relation, the &thfir of Solomon's House
Btood up j the author, as he had been taught^ kneeled down, and
received his solemn blessing. ''And so he left me," adds the
narrator, ''having assigned a value of about two thousand ducats
for a bounty to me and my fellows ; for they give great largefises
where they come upon all occasions."
And thus abruptly .terminates all that we have of the " New
Atlantis" of Lord Bacon. It is but a fragment; and as no plan of
tiie work is in existence, we cannot tell what part this piece was
intended to form in the projected whole. It is probable, as Bawley's
pre&ce says, it may have been Lord Bacon's intention "to have
composed a frame of laws, or of the best state or mould of a com-
monwealth ; but forseeing it would be a long work, his desire of
collecting the natural history diverted him, which he placed many
degrees before it"
The following is Lord Bacon's list of desiderata, many if not
most of which he thought attainable.
MAGNALIA KATU&S — ^PBiECIPXTS QUOAD USUS HUHAKOS.
The prolongation of life. The restitution of youtib in some
degree. The retardation of age. The curing of diseases counted
incurable. The mitigation of pain. More easy and less loathsome
purgings. The increasing of strength and activity. The increasing
of ability to suffer torture or pain. The altering of complexions,
and fatness, and leanness. The altering of statures. The altering
of features. The increasing and exalting of the intellectual parts.
Version of bodies into other bodies. Making of new species.
Transplanting of one species into another. Instruments of destruc-
tion, as of war and poison. Exhilaration of the spirits, andputting
them in good disposition. Force of the imagination, either upon
another body, or upon the body itself Acceleration of time in
maturations — in clarifications — of putrefaction — of decoction —
of germination Making rich composts for tJie earth. Im-
pi<essions of the air, and raising of tempests. Great alteration,
as in induration, emoiition, <fec. Turning crud^ and watery sub-
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stances into oilj and unotuoos substances. Drawing of new foods
out of substances not now in use. Making new threads for apparel,
and new stuffs, such as are paper, glass, &o. Natural divinations.
Deceptions of the senses. Greater pleasures of the senses. Artificial
minerals and cements.
We now pass to a work of the same character, by a very inferior
writer, which may be said to bear the same place with regard to
the ** New Atlantis," which that romance does with I'egard to the
"Utopia" — it is necessary to read the Oceana of Habrikgtoh
with a constant reference to the history of his times. The influence
of Plato's ^'Eepublic" upon him is of course great, bat something
more, perhaps, is due to the now forgotten works of Barclay and
Ho well We scarcely know if it can justly be entitled a philoso-
phical romance, for any poetic or romantic view is entirely wanting.
No attempt is made at any pleasant and ingenious fiction : never
was disguise so thin and transparent '' Oceana" is England.
" Meopuia," being the northern part of the same island, is the dry
uui'se of a popular and hardy nation, and of course refers to Scot-
land. " Panopea" is manifestly recognised by the description to be
Ireland. He says, ** Panopea, the soft mother of a slothful and
pusillanimous people, is a neighbour island, amicably subjected by
the arms of Oceana, since almost depopulated for Hhaking off the
yoke, and at length replaced with a new race." A criticism upon
the Irish chai'acter as unjust and absurd then as it would be at
the present time.
But to understand the Oceana, we must refer to the history of
the period. The Lord Asebon, Olphaus Megalator, is Oliver
Cromwell, not the Oliver Cromwell of history, but such a aharacter
as Harrington would have wished him to have been. He belonged
to the famous Kobe Club of the Protectorate, that band of political
theorists, always so fond of drawing up on paper the minutest
plans and details of political Government.
Thus the idea of the Oceana is simply the idea how England at
this peiiod might be consolidated anew, now that the old Dynas^
had come to an end, and there was a possibility if only his
Lord Asebon had allowed it, of establishing a Common wealtL
Chief of all Yenice is his model which he considers to approach
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nearest to perfection. He talks of Queen Eliz%betii in terms
of eulogy, and Henry the Seveuth is branded as Ponno-gns. He
quotes Hobbes and Bacon who are easily detected under the names
of Leviathan and Yeroalasicus.
The Oceana is &r less radical and republican than might be
supposed. The basis of power is property, and a property quali-
fication is in land. Thence results a middle-class aristocracy with
a certain Agrarian law to check any danger of excess. The Senate
have to propose and debate ; the people have to decide ; and the
executive power is vested in a majority taken in rotation and
chosen by ballot with the suffrage of the people. Here party is to
be unknown, and of course merit is to be the only road to power.
Beyond this general notice it would be tedious to follow this
work into all the intricacies of the laws and constitution supposed
tp prevail in Oceana. The book must be voted dull and pedantic,
though it is still able and manly. And though we should not like
to contradict the assertion of Harrington's enthusiastic biographer
that it will last as long as law and liberty, we are certain that
though it may exist, its existence will be all but forgotten.
§mi m^xtm.
SIR JOHN BARROW, BART., LL.D., F.R.S.
[CONOLUnSI) FKOM QUA LAST.]
"Barrow, you are a truly honest man."--KiNo William IV.
Having, with great brevity, traced Sir John Barrow's early history,
his voyage to China, his travels in Africa, and his protracted and
honourable career in the Admiralty, we shall now consider his
retirement from public life. In nearly all we have hitherto said
of Sir John, we have implicitly believed his interesting auto-
biography. We have done so advisedly. There is so much of
honesty, straightforwardness, and disingenuousness, in his
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mvmitLiPV^-HM maoh tiiat is indictttiTe of the totbI vpinion aliorff
quoted — ihat we regard the whole as a veritable history, even were
it nnsupported by one tittle of oont^nporary testimony. Such
eyidence, however, is not wanting. We find it in abundance,
testifying, in language fraught with de^ meaning, the opinions
entertained of Sir John's servioes, and character, by those whose
opportunities of judging of both had been as ample as their honour
was unimpeachable.
Sir John had served the Admiralty forty years, and had attained
the eighty*first year of his age, enjoying robust health, strength,
and vigour of mind, before he retired from the position of second
Secretary.
In the official reply to his resignation, from his esteemed col
league, Sydney Herbert, the Lords of the Admiralty thus convey
their sentiments to Sir John — *^ In aecepting your resignation, the
" Board beg to assure you of their best wishes for your health and
'' happiness in a retirement honourably earned and naturally sought
*' for, at your advanced age, afler half a century of laborious
^"public life,
<< During many years of your connection with this department,
" you have served the public usefully, no less by the zeal with
"which you have endeavoured to render science subservient to
''our naval and commercial interests, than by your assiduous
''attention to the arduous duties of your important office."
From the eminent statesman. Sir Robert Peel, whose untimely
loss the nation has so deeply deplored, yea, and still deplores,
because he was one of the select few of the sons of men who dare
to be so great in act as they are in thought — Sir John received the
following note : —
•* Whitehall, January 10th, 1845.
" Mt Dbar Sib,— I cannot allow you to retire from the public service
without conveying to you my high sense of the services which you have ren-
dered to the public during a long and honourable career, and expressing my
cordial wishes that you may long enjoy a private station, health, and hap-
piness.
" Believe me, my dear sir, with sincere regard,
" Most faithfully yours,
"ROBERT PEEL."
" Sib John Babbow, Babt.''
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Froih LonI MelViHe, whom Str John stytidii ^ mj exeelknt old
master/' he received the follo^ing^: —
*' lif BLTiCLfl! Oastlb, Javuabt Ibt, 1846.
'^Mt Dbaa Baebow,— I am not Burprised on receiving yoxsi letter
tO'day, though very much ohliffed by your recollection of my former commu-
nication. I must say that you have bad to undergo your full share of official
labours ; and most assuiedly the pubhc have no further cUum upon you if it
be agreeable to you to retire.
*' With the strongest wishes for your still seeing the return of many New
Years' days, wHh the same good hedth and constitution.
*' I remain,
** Touii most truly and sincerely,
"MELVILLE.''
The following letter from Admiral Beaufort, Hydographer to
the Adrniradty, combines with an ezpfesBion of a high estimate of
his public character, the warmth and freshness of sincere private
friendship ; and Sir John says of it " among the many kind leave-
takings I received, none gave me more sincere pleasure."
"AnKiBAiiTT, Januabt 29, 1845. ^
"Mt Dbab Sut J<«N,— I might have been contented with my share
of the sentiments which were so well expressed by Mr. Amedroy, in his
letter to you of last Monday ; and I might have rested equally contented and
flattered by appropriating to myself a small share of those kind and cheering
sentimrents which filled yoxii reply to him.
"Tet, after havmg been so many years in daily communication with you,
so long worked under your directions, and so continually profitted by your
^xperi^iee and judgtnent, I cannot forego the opportunity of saying, in a
more direct form, how deeply I regret the separation that has this day taken
place, and the consequent loss to the office in every point of view, whether
public or personal ; individually, to me greater than to any one, from your
eiteosive knowledge on all those subjects whidi it is my duty to cultivate.
Indeed, when I look back at the many remafkable men with whom I have
served afloat or ashore, I can safely say that there are very few of them that
will come to my remembrance more frequently, more strongly, or more pkas^
ingly than you ; and none that will be so usefully and stimtUatingly associated
with all the best of my pursuits.
"Among the painful impressions, however, which your withdrawal has
produced, I feel it to be a source of great pleasure and consolation that,
before it took place, you had succeeded in providing for a finishing (and, I
trtiit ciowoiDg) voyage of discovery to those regions ftom which jou km
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derived so much fiune, and with which jonr name will be boaod up for e?er.
'* I am, my dear Sir John,
^ Faithfully and gratefully yours,
"P. BEAUFORT."
Mr. Amedroj referred to in the last letter was the Chief Clerk
of the Admiralty, and he in his own and the behalf of many of
the gentlftraan of the office, wrote to Sir John, conveying the
expression of their regret at his leaving the Admiralty, and con-
veying their grateful appreciation of his uniform kindness to them.
Sir John made a suitable acknowledgment, and paid a high tribute
to their zeal and deyotion in the public service, and expressing an
ardent wish that their valuable services would hereafter be more
liberally remunerated by the Gk>vemment.
Admiral Beaufort refers to the exertions of Sir John in connec-
tion with the expeditions sent out to the Arctic Seas. We shall
soon present to the notice of our readers a testimony to Sir John's
exertions on that interesting theme, from those who, -of all men,
were emphatically the most competent to form a sound opinion ;
^ut we would preface it with a few observations.
In 1817, being a year of tranquillity, there was little demand on
the royal navy, and Mr. Barrow thought it a fitting opportunity to
employ "a few small ships in voyages of discovery for the advance-
ment of geography, navigation, and commerce." He accordingly
published '* a curious and interesting account of the description of
'^ large fields and masses of ice and icebergs, from different parts of
" the arctic regions, and their transport far down into the Atlantia"
The occasion was deemed a &iir one " to explore those northern seas
'' and renew the attempts to discover a iiorth-west passage from the
'< Atlantic to the Pacific, which had engaged the attention of the
'Meamed and ingenious, as well as the mercantile interests of this
« kingdom, at various periods. Barrow proposed a plan of two
** voyages for Lord Melville's consideration, which was ultimately
'adopted."
Sir John took a lively interest in several expeditions to find out
the north-west passage, and thus speaks of the men who had taken
an active part therein, and who presented him with a magnificent
testimonial — '* None could be more gratifying and heartfelt * *
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"from a class of gentlemen, all of them officen of high distinction
"in the British Navy, and whose conduct throughout a most
"arduous employment of a senes of years, may safely be said to
** hare no parallel I allude to our recent arctic yoyagers, who
^ have so nobly sustained the high and unflinching character of
"British naval officers, by their persevering and adventurous spirit,
'Uu exploriBg unknown frozen seas, making new discoveries in
''geography, in objects of scientific research, in experiments in
" meteorology and natural history, and, in shorty by extending the
^ limits of human knowledge ; and, moreover, what is above all
" praise and most worthy of admiration, by the uncomplaining and
"quiet resignation to the Divine will on the part of those whose
" sufferings from intense cold and the extremity of fiunine were
"&r beyond any known example."
Sir John, during his protracted career, formed many valued
friendships. We first notice his late Majesty King William the
fourth. Lady Barrow, owing to indisposition, had been prevented,
for several years, attending the court of his majesty. On her
recovery. Sir John says — " The first visit she thought it her duty
'' to make, was to the Queen's drawing room, and accordingly she
'' sent her card, as usual, to the chamberlain's office. The day
"before was the levee, when the Eong stopped Sir George Staunton,
" and said to him, with an expression of great delight, 'Sir G^rge,
" your friend Lady Barrow la coming here tomorrow : 1 am very
"glad of it' And, certainly, the way in which he received her
« was more like that of a parent embracing a daughter than the
" king one of his humble subjects ; he called her back, to express
" the great pleasure he felt to see her once more able to enjoy the
" society of her friends." For us to comment on such a beautiful
exhibition of friendship, would indeed be like "painting the violet"
Justly might Sir John Barrow, speaking for himself, Lady Barrow,
and children, say, "it made an impression on our minds never to
"be forgotten."
Sir John enjoyed the friendship of that illustrious statesman, the
right honourable Qeorge Canning. The friendship of Mr. Canning
was peculiarly strong towards Sir John, in consequence of an
important service rendered by the latter in a matter dceely affeot-
B
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tng the ImppineiB 6f itr. Canning a6 a ftrth«r. Young Oanning, a
iiigh-spit^ted iad, waa s^t to sea. The discipline of the Mtp being
very laic, yonng Oanning was, with impunity, :fleeoe4 by a gmiMibg
lieutenant of marines, who won from the lad som^ihing about
£400. This &ot eame to the ears of Sir John, who forthwith >eem-
municated the affidr to Mr. Oanning, who detemmied that the
money should be paid. Sir John would not <K>nsent to his pajiiibg
it, as he foresaw that it wouM be the rain of the eon, wiho, under
proper discipline, might be restoired to a seisM of propriofy. Mh
Canning yielded to Sir John's wish, and the youth was, by Inm,
placed under Ctfptadn Dawkins, a strict diseiplmariftn, undmr whom
he was soon reclaimed^ and proceeded rapidly in his carear for pro-
motion, on the ground of merit Subsequently, he distiuguished
himself at Madeira, where he protected our merchants, when a
1*eyolution Was thitetened in the contests between Don Miga^ and
Don Pedro. After this, Mr. Canning thought he could never do
enough in return fo4r the obligation h# conceived he lay under, for
Sir Jdhn's afttaoition to his son.
Among the distinguished naval commanders wi& whom Sij
John Batrow was acquainted, was the immortal Kelson, the hero
of Tnifalgar, a man whose public career was a blaze of triumphs,
ttnd his brilliiaait achievements will ever occupy a prominent place
in England's naval history. It is somewhat singular that Sir John
Barrow^ was probably the last person -with whom Lord Kelson sho6k
hands in London, previous to his depatiure on that expedition in
which he lost his life.
In fiddition to works on Chista, AfHca^ itc, which emisaat^
firom the pen of Sir John Barrow, we have to notice another
department of his literary labours, in a sphere where to be emf^ed
as a paid contributor is unmistakeabie evid^ice of the high 0{Hnian
entertained of his intellectual quaMcalic^Hi and mental acquire*
^nents in high literary circles. We allude 4o his conneotiim with
the Qua/rterly Review, We are now speaking of that periodical in
a literary point of view ; for although Sir J6hn was strongly and
uncompromisingly attached to it on polidoal grounds, and firmly
opposed to the politics of its great rival, the JSdinburgh SevieWf yet
Us oontributicms w»re never on poiitioal su^jeets. His intBodootion
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to the ieditor of the Quarterly, Mr. Wllli»m aiffiml,* firm itfcl^aagb
the light honoanible (George Canning, who was solicitous of ^njyist-
ing Barrow as '' an efficient labourer in Gifford's vineyarcL''
It is a common saying in EJngland, that nothing can be done
without a good diniier — a custom always honoured by observance !
Sir John says — '< One morning, in the summer of the year 1 809,
'* Mr. Oamnng looked in upon me at the Admiralty, siod he had
''ofton troubled me on business, but now he was about to ask a
'' fkvour. * I believe you are acquainted with my friend William
'' Giffbrd V ' By reputation,' I said, ' but not personally/ < Then,'
** says he, ' I must make you personally acquainted ; will you oome
'' and dine with me at Gloucester Lodge any day-^the sooner the
" more agreeable — say tomorrow, if you are disengaged V On accept-
^* ing, he said, ' I will send to GifTord to meet you ; I know he
** will be glad to come.' " The meeting took place, and Barrow
became a oontributw to the Qtiorterly^ and wrote no less than 196
articles.
In tiie year 1821, Sir John received the honorary degree of
LL.D., from the Benohis Aoademicus of the University of £din«
buxgh, oonferred as a proof of their respect fi«r his literary talents^
jtnd forhxs effecttve aid in promoting the progn^i^ of science.
1^ Jc^n aided largely in estaUishing the Boyal Geographical
Society, in 1830, which was immediately countenapced by ^'8ir
'^ Robert Peel, through him King William IV. became our patron,
** the Duke of Sussex, vice^patron, and Lord Goderieh was appointed
« pi-esident. The king gave an annual medal of fifty guineas for
** the promotion of diMcovery ; and, in short, the puUioation of the
** first vdhune of the Journal oomprAended a Ust of ^S5 mmas,
V most of tiiem eminent in arts, sciences, and lita^alure."
Sir John, at the conclusion of his autobiography, v^ modestly
disclaims all pretonsions to being a literary character. On this
point we must cQffer from him, and we think every oandid reader
will admit, that he who, to fill up his vacant. time, and chiefly as
*.Tlu8 distiiigui&bed xuan sprung from the humblest walks pf Ufe^ pass^
through many trying and galling ordeals of poverty and persecution, and
became by the vigour of his talents and indefatigable industry, one of the first
ii^ero^iofhisday.
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an amuflement, oould write the works oontaiDed in tlie following
summary, had claims to no mean position in the literary world.
No. Art
'< Articles in the Quarterly Review^ on almost every subject (excepting
political), most asked for by Mr. Gifford 196.
In the Encyelopofdia Britannica, requested by Professor Napier,
10 or 12,— say 12*
By the same, particularly desired l^ my friend, Professor Napier, a
< Review of the Life of Admirai Lord St. Vincent^' in the EcUti-
ImrghBmew 1.
Voli.
The*Lifeof Lord Macartney,' in 2 vols., quarto 2.
•TravelsinSouth Africa,' 2 vols., quarto: 2.
* Travels in China,' IvoL, quarto 1.
'Voyage to Oochin-Ohina,' 1 voL, quarto 1.
The ' Life of Lord Anson,' 1 voL, octavo 1.
In the Family Library, the 'Life of Peter the Great,' and the
♦Mutiny of the Bounty* 2.
* Chronological History of Arctic Voyages,' 1 vol., octavo 1.
* Voyages of Discovery and Research withm the Arctic Regions,'
IvoL, octavo 1."
Whatever might be the position assigned to Sir John Barrow in
the republic of letters, by scholars competent to form a sound and
authoritative opinion, cei'tain it is, that the above catalogue of hig
works evidences an amount of indefatigable industry worthy of
imitation by all our young readera
It is worth inquiring, What were Sir John's habits of lifel
'< In early life, and up to my fortieth year, my days were mostly
*' spent in out-door exercise on land, and in ail climates from 80^
" north to 40® south latitude by sea. As a pedestrian, I travelled
*^ several thousand miles, chiefly in South Africa, and a full thousand
" in China. During the last forty years of my life, I scarcely took
" any exercise, except in the summer evenings, when not occupied
'< at my desk ; and for a month or six weeks, each summer, in some
" part of the country. * * From invariable habit^ I seldom if
" ever require to have any recourse to any kind of medicine.'
^' It is a common observation, that air and exercise are the best
" promoters or preservers of health : but perhaps its stability may
" mostly be ascribed to constitutional habit. For the first forty
« yean of my life^ as I have before said, no one could be mors
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'' exposed to good air and plentj of exeroue than myself; for the
" last forty years I was doomed almost entirely to a sedentary life ;
^' yet in neither case, as already observed, had I occasion to call in
" the doctor ; nor could I perceive any change in the habit of body,
" except that of being somewhat less active — ^yet not much so —
" during the last two or three years ; my weight has never varied
<' more than from ten to eleven stone. After all, much may be
*^ ascribed to a regular and systematic course of life, to moderation
«' in eating and drinking. I have always been a moderate eater of
** plain food, and a moderate drinker, mostly of port wine."
We must, however, draw to a close. Our object in this brief
and necessarily imperfect sketch of Sir John, has been a practical
one, and we shall feel abundantly rewarded, if we have arrested the
attention of any ardent, intelligent youth, and impressed his mind
with the conviction that persevering industry is essential to success.
The most industrious may sometimes not be successful, but without
industry, perseverance, and steady application in any pursuit,
success is impossible. A man may climb the Matterhom, and
perish in the attempt ; but he can never accomplish the feat who
is too indolent to reach the snow lina There was nothing
brilliant about Sir John ; but he was a model of industry and per-
severance. How refreshing to find him, when an octogenarian, thus
writing : — " I cannot imagine the nature of the constitutions of
" those who feel miserable in retirement, for want of emplojrment.
'* To such I would recommend a page of the amiable Cowper, who
" says —
^ Friends, books, a garden, and, perhaps, his pen,
Delightful indostry, enjoy'd at home.
Can he want occupation who has these?'
<* For my own part, I have them all except thd garden, and that is
*' supplied, as far as London admits, by my daughter. I have also
'* the unrestrained use of the public gardens ; and when I add that
'^ the pen is, this sixteenth day of April, 1847, employed in writing
'* the present page, it may be concluded I am not passing the day
" in idleness."
A couplet, by Dr. Johnson, quoted by Sir John, and applied for
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tttotlK^r pttrpOM, tttty, !f the resder will pardon our cfeangliig tbe
phirftl iitto the sittgukf , he weD applied t(^ himsc^.
''A frame of adamant, a soal of fire.
No dangers fnght him, and no lat)oiir8 tire."
Te att /owng mtA who are inelined to despond in the jyursttits of
Ufe, we WeiM qtlotey fbv their eoeouragement^ the baming. words
of Shakespeare i
"Whefefbre do yon droop? why look yon sad?
Be greM to act as yoa have heen in thought ;
Be stirring, as the times ; he fire with fire !"
fo^ttjj.
A TRIBITTARY RECORD.
** John Pox, vicar of Hedon and Preston, Hull*
So standq^the i-ecotd, simple, sorrowfttl,
To note the death-sleep of a man of worth.
Than whom no wcfrthier e*er was bom of earth.
Greater, more honoured, and more known to feme
Are thousands. iTone has left a purer name
To family tradition : but he sought
No greatness, no renown : self-seeking thought
Bred not wrthttt Mm : Duty was his aim,
And work his element. He pushed no claim ;
But yet his work and Worth pa;»ed not away
Q^nnoticed, or unprized. Let Whitby say ;
For Whitby with repeated tokens proved
His labours owned, his person well-beloved.
In trying timeS) deserted by his chief,
Hopeless of help, expecting no relief,
Cheerful he rose to unrequited toils,
And reckoned duties done his richest spoils.
Then grateful Whitby gathered, as was meet^
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And laid their offoringB at his honoured feet
Musgrave himself their warm approval sealed,
Musgrave^ who well the crosier knew to wield.
Dispensing to the well-tried men of work
The small reward, that backed his rule at York ;
And, thoagh the gift was more of work than rest,
Made him withal of certain home possessed.
And none more worthily deserved a home,
Though through long years his lot had been to roam.
For when St Bridget's school, of old renown,
Had sent him forth equipped ; the belted town
Of Chester saw him planting in her youth
The seeds of knowledge and the roots of truth,
A subaltern of Casson, and co-mate
With Troughton (who by sad untimely £ftte
His sacred toils at Paramatta dosed
In torrent floods, that his return opposed,
And oterwhelmed with unexpected force.
Where lately they had crossed, both man and horse).
After, by Ainger duly certified
To Sumner, he the sacred office plied.
Ordained, in Ireleth's consecrated school.
In school unconsecrated plied the rule.
At Kirkham next in ever fixed routine
As Daily Priest he acted the machine.
Directed thence and led by Gk>d's right hand
In happier lot he found a better land.
To Toft by Market-Rasen he went down,
And there met help for help with Bible Brown,
Kich in a largely caltivated store
Of mental gifts, and fiill of sacred lore,
Which flows at will in marvelous eloquence
Deeply imbued with godly reverence,
Whom God a friend, a counsellor, a guide,
Chose for hia chosen servant to provide.
For few the marks of Heavenly dioioe have shewn,
As they firom youth m Vox were suveljr known.
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So single-minded, guilelens and sincere ;
To others gentle, to himself severe ;
Transparent as the clearest crystal plate,
And candid as the mirror, slow to hate.
Nor bnt the temper, habit or conceit ;
And with cool reason, not with passionate heat ;
So slow to anger, that in all his face.
Save the expanding eye, yon read no trace ;
And there it was the Hense of injured rights
That glanced a tranquil beam of virtuous light';
And slow to own the glow of friendship too.
But owning once, forever warmly true.
Peaceful, he knew no quarrels. Ever true
Himself and upright, none essayed to do
Him wrong. Serenely wise and calmly good
Aloof from all conflicting aims he stood
In peace. Yet brave and fearless T have seen -
Him fronting danger with as calm a mien,
As though 'twere but a fly in summer day.
That he would brush instinctively away.
Impartial justice swayed his honest heart ;
Nor friend could win him to the wrongful part
No thought impure found shelter in his breast ;
Nor ever vented he the wanton jest^
Or jest profane, or God-insulting oath
In midst of those who freely dealt in both.
The hardy, heedless, jocund school-boy host.
Who made rough pranks and practices their boast
And rivalry in rollicking and sport
And bold profanity of every sort
Yet he with aspect lighted from within,
Renouncing mischief and eschewing sin,
Engaged in games of innocent delight.
Rebuking wrong by only doing right j
Nor consciously rebuking, nor impressed
With thought that he was better than the rest
Lowly in heart, as high in virtuous aims,
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He never dreamed of merit, nor of claims
On the regard of others, or esteem ;
But ever showed his habit was to deem
Himself of no account. Yet he returned
With tiunquil warmth the iervent love that burned
Deep in the breast of an observant fiiend,
Who side by side for years was wont to wend
The daily pilgrimage in beaten track,
Basket on arm and satchel on the back ;
And bears this witness, that he was in truth
One who revered his maker from his youth.
Such was thy son, O Haverigg (of yore
Untaught to wear the blush of ruddy ore ;
Or blush the blush, that turns the blusher pale —
To see thy denizens swept off to gaol ;
E're yet the maddening fluid had its vendors.
And ere thy streets invoked the laVs defenders ;
And Cleasby was content with hook and net
In homespun blue to shed his daily sweat
Upon the fishy flood, off by the bar •
Or homeward nearer to the mussel-scaur )
A boy — he was of calm and manly thought.
And worked in arts, which he was never taught ;
A student diligent at Whicham school
When Lowther, Keene, and Benson held the rule.
Whom Steble followed ; ardent too at play
In the appointed portions of the day :
But joume3ring homeward often he would borrow
The walking hour preparing for the morrow :
Yet seldom failed he in the summer flood
To plunge his head as in a liquid hood.
The tiny flood that purled from Lacra Bank
And at the wayside formed a limpid tank ;
Nor lingered ; but, his dripping locks half-dried,
Homeward refreshed with lighter speed he hied.
That he arrived might ply with heart and will
In useful works his well-directed skill,
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(The signs of wliich at Hestbam yoa ssighi tcact
Till reckless railway showed his tyrant ia^)
Prepared by such disciplinary drill
Duties of sacred ministry to fill.
With patient toil, and with a growing zeal
As God his light was pleased more to rerveal,
To whom, in thoughtful tribute I would raise
Both heart and song in ererlasting praise.
T. H. R.
M^^x^%kld MtUUtfi,
ALDINGHAM.
[(fOlFCLVBSn VROK OITB LAST.}
GLCASTON.
Ik the Domesday Survey, this place is written Glaasertun, {GloMy
water ; tun, town.) and is estimated to contain two camcates of
land. The village comprises several neat houses, farm buildings,
and cottages ; and near the centre nciay be seen the sto^e steps and
remains of the platform upon which stood an ancient cross. 4
little distance from this, in the direetion of Scales, is the celebrated
"Mickle Well," or " MichaeFs Well," a bright^ sparkling spring,
issuing beneath a huge slab of limestone, and which, according to
tradition, never faila; but even in dry weather provides an abundant
supply of clear waAer. From its antiquity and ajssociations, this
well deserves a liitUe more attention, and the inhaUtants might, at
a very moderate expense, were they so disposed, erect over the
spring a plain massive front, to protect it from sun*ounding dirt,
and preserve the memory of the old feudal lord, who, perhaps, in
days of yore, has often rested on his way homeward from the chase,
to drink of its crystal water.
The road here lies in a north-easterly direction, patit the mill, to
the ruins of Gleaston castle, undsr the shelter of whosewalls, there
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k now B inibstMitn], frA^ktilt^ modem &nn-kous«« Traditioii
teUs us tliai th» castle was erected by the lord o£ Aldi&ghain,
immediatelj alker the sea had swept awafy the lower part of the
parish, where the original residence was situated ; but as it has
already been i^ewn that tradition errs with regard to the wholesale
destruction of the villages mentioned in Domesday Book, and as the
site of the ancient hall of Aldingham is still viable near the moat,
it is reasonable to doubt its veracity again in this instance. It is
more probable that this fortress was erected to afford security
against the Scottish marauders, who still harassed the northern
oountiesy and as the first Sir Michael distinguished himself by his
energetic operations against them, it was only likely his sons should
provide means of defending themselves and their property from
their hereditary enemies. Besides, as their &mily increased in
wealth and numbers, they would require accommodation in accord-
ance with their position and importance, which, in consequence of
the host of retainers requisite for defence in those lawless times,
and for swelling the train of nobles to impart an air of dignity, or
'' pride and pomp and circumstance,'' as custom had it, the primitive
h^use at Aldingham would be found greatly deficient.
The shelter and seclusion afforded by this quiet little vale^ gave
them a eommodious home in the midst of their own possessions^ and
a means of protection against the Scots, as well as power te coerce
those of their dependent serfs who felt the least disposed ta resist
their authority — for we know that the feudal system gave ih» lord
power dver the lives and property of his vassals, villeins, or tenants,
and that a system of petty tyranny was very oiten praotised by
these magnates^ who greatly abused their anthonty on some
ocoadons. Hence, we are now disposed to look lipon these ruined
castles with a feeling of relief and thankfulness, for their decay was
the dawn of that liberty which is now the boast of every Englirf^
man. The strongholds of the past, with the feudal exactions of
their lordly owners, would be incompatible with the agrieoltural
and commercial prosperity, and civil and religioas liberty we now
enjoy ; therefore, we may rejoice to see their fortresses dismantled,
and their battlements levelled^^-^even the gaping, ruined walls seem
out of place, in the midst of this peacefol scene, though it were
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waU that they remained as they are, to remind us of the advantages
we experience over our unhappy ancestors, who were compelled to
bear the galling chain of bondage, and submit to the stem dictates
of a mailed knight and his followers.
Gleaston Castle does not appear to have been calculated to offer
great resistance to an enemy ; but probably it was of sufficient
strength to enable its defenders to resist border incursions, as these
plunderers would not encumber themselves with heavy siege trains,
because of the rapidity of their marches when ravaging a country.
The walls enclose an oblong space, having a tower at each of the
four angles, the two smallest stUl remaining, and also a portion of
the third, but of the fourth the foundations only can be traced.
The keep, or main tower, has stood about the centre, for there are
indications of some work having been placed upon a plot about
seventy to eighty feet square. Two of the sides of the area within
the walls measure each 288 feet, another 168 feet, and the fourth
132 feet. The towers have been about fifty-two feet, and the cur-
tain walls thirty feet in height, their thickness varying from nine
feet three inches to ten feet six inches. Some parts of the walls
have been better built than others ; but, owing probably to the
nature of the material used : the work has a loose appearance, the
limestone having apparently been taken from the topmost beds,
and is full of flaws. The summit of one tower reveals an extensive
prospect) to the south the Pile of Fouldrey and Walney Island, to
the north and east, Stainton, Little Urswick, Scales, Coniston Old
Man mountain peering over Kirkby Moor, and Langdale Pikes.
This castle belongs to the early English period (about A.D. 1180
to 1250), specimens of which are very rare, consequently it presents
us with a very interesting example of the domestic architecture of
the middle ages, and of a time rich in ecclesiastical, but poor in
military structures. In the works of this period, there was a
tendency to economise men and material, by a more skilful dis-
position of the parts of the fortification. It is very likely this
stronghold was erected by William, son of the first Michael le
Fleming, who was living about the year 1180. There is no trace of
a ditch or moat. The following extract from an article on military
architecture by Mr. G. T. Clark, will serve to explain the plan of
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this work. ''The Norman castle held a small garrisoiiy who trusted
to the passive resistance of their walls; their successors diminished
the solidity to increase the extent of their front, and by throwing
out salient points were enabled to combine their forces upon any
one point. A wall cannot be advantageously defended unless so
constructed that the exterior base of one part can be seen from the
interior summit of another ; hence the advantage of buttress or
flanking towers, which not only add to the passive strength of the
line, but enable the garrison to defend the intermediate or curtain
walL By this means, the curtain, that part of the line of defence
least able to resist the ra^ became that in defence of which most
weapons could be brought to bear ; whilst the towers, which had
not the advantage of being thus flanked, were, from their form and
solidity, in but little danger of being breached." The walls hare
been'i&ced outside and inside with large, roughly-hewn stones, set
in lime mortar, but the middle has been filled-in with smaller ones
cemented with mortar badly tempered; possibly, with the ordinary
earth of the vicinity, which, from containing so much oxide of iron,
was thereby rendered almost useless, and that would account for
its present dry, pulverised condition. The doors and windows are
of permian sandstone. The towers would, doubtless, have the
lower storey, or ground floor, vaulted, as was the usual custom of
the period, to be used chiefly for cellars, store-rooms, or dungeons,
the dwelliag apartments being on the first floor.
The windows in the lower parts are single lancets, while those
in the upper floors are trefoiled, all being of single lights, widely
splayed inside, but very narrow outside. Acutely pointed door^
ways lead to spifal staircases, which ascend, in the thickness of the
walls, to the top. Here, most probably, would be the soldiers'
quarters, while within the castle area was usually the chapel, for
our lawless barons observed strictly the outward forms of religion ;
and upon the space in the centre, already described, there stood the
main tower, or keep, in which the knightly owner and his £simily
resided. Their domestic comforts were meagre enough, when com-
pared with those of the present day ; for the poorest person in the
adjoining village possesses luxuries which were unknown to the
oooupants of this castellated residence. Obliged to live in chambers
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inth narrow ftpertnreB, hardly admitting light enough to ffl the
apartment, the Moor strewn with rashes, th^r only bed a rude
couch or heap of straw, l^eir fomiture of the roughest description,
without forks or spoons, stockings, or body linen, — our ancestors
in these remote times, even among the highest ranks, had to put
up with many discomforts, and suffer numerous inconyeuiences,
tlie result of the troublesome nature of the age, and the necessity
for the sacrifice of every other consideration to that of personad
safety.
From Leyland's Itinerary it seems long to have been in a
de)apidat«d state ; for in the reign of Henry VIII. he says, "There
is a ruine and waulles of a castle in Lancastershire, cawlyd Gleston
Oasteil, Bometyme 'longynge to tihe Lorde Hanngtons, now to ^e
Marquise of Dorset It stondith a two miles from Oarthemaile."
The picturesqueness of the ruin is heightened by the ivy-clad
walls of the towers, their sombre covering being associated with ike
pellitory and other plants growing in the crevices of the stonework,
hiding, somewhat^ the effects of the wear and tear of six and a haK
centuries. There is a quarry of the carboniferous limestone within
about two hundred yards of the ruins, very rich in fossils
LEEOE
is a quiet retired village, surrounding a tarn, about a mile from
Gleaston. Two places caUed Ides are mentioned in Domesday
Book, one containing six carucates, and the other two, and it is
supposed that the former refers to the present village.
DENDRON
is situated about an equal distance between the two last-mentioned
places, and is but a small hamlet. Here is a chapel of ease,
founded in 1642, by Robert Dickinson, a citizen of London, who
also endowed the church with £200, which with another amaXL
bene&ction, now yield about £9 a-year. It was consecrated in
1776, and twenty years afterwards was rebuilt by Thomas Green,
Esq., of London, the friend of George Romney, the painter, who
received a part of his early education at that place. In 1833 it
was- considerably improved and enlarged at the cost of the princi-
pal inhabitants, and now contains 160 sittings, twelve^ which
are ffe^ The living is a perpetual curacy, in the gift of the leetor
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Backiimue-do»e
Point
Conck
Ramg^iidi Station
Beacon HiU
Weid/Uld P(fM
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Pa/rrodeHaU
Muitard Haw
SaWunue
CraJb-marah PoitU
Moor Point
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Moat HiU
Newbiffgim
Point qf Comfort
White Hatt
Ccnninger Point
Rampmde
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of Aldinglian. In 1773, 1780, Mid 1792, the oanie7 received
three instalments of Queen Anne's Bounty, amounting to £880,
with which land was purchased m. Didton and Unwick ; and, in
1845, It received £31 per anuum frem the Ecclesiastical Com-
unssionerB, so that the Hving is now wortth £80 a-year. Ourates
smee 1788 :— John fiingleton, 17M ; Thomas Oaddy, 1808 ; John
Psttenson, 1818; John ICacauUy, 1866. The present offieiatiag
minister is the Rev. — Spencer. The rector of Alding^am has
recently presented himBel/ to the perpeUtal curacy. The chapel
received a visit, in 1652, from Geoi^e Vox, who sajrs, in his journal :
" I wait to a chapel beyond Gleaston, which was built, but priest
had never preached in it. Thither all the country up and down
came ; and a quiet, peaceable meeUng it was, in which the word
of life was declared among the people, and many were convinced
c^ tiie tnirt^'' The old school building stands opposite the church.
The parsonage was purchased, in 1845, with £400, obtained in the
following manner; — £100 was given by Pyncombe's trustees ; £50
by th^ Rev. Dr. Stonard, and £50 by MarshaH's trustees, to which
£200 was added by Queen Anne's Bounty. The township school
was erected in 1833, but a new one has been just completed, with
master's residence attached, on the rOad towards Leeoe, equally
convenient for all parties.
The township of Lower Aldingham includes the hamlets of
Kewb^^gin and Roosebeck.
ON THE GLACIAL DRIFT OF FURNESa
By Mua E. S^lgson.
Tkb substance of the following memoir was printed in the Oeologiiif
VoL VIL, No. 78, 1864. It is reproduced for the pages of the
^arlh Lanadaie Magazine at the request of the Editor, with some
i^lttetonee ; for not only does the subject involve details necessarily
dxx'Mid uninteresting to the general reader, tet it is x>ne on which
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a good deal of coatroversy has lately aiisen amongst geologists :
so that, (except in the matter of the horizontal markings on our
hillsy just touched upon in a former number), I would more gladly
have followed some other line of thought In fact, just in pro-
portion as a problem or theory appears to admit of renewed
disputation, so do^ its difficulty become apparent : and rmnor
geologisUy I fear, show greater wisdom in noting the issue, than in
taking part in the argument
It has seemed to me, however, that^ in the recent memoirs put
forth on both sides, the Drift itself has been a little lost sight of :
the Jorm oj grownd only, being taken wherewith to point to a
special kind of denudation : — ^the one advocating for that form
being of marine moulding — ^the other of atmospheric — 1.6. rain,
and rivers.
One might lean rather towards the freshwater theory of denu-
dation for the configuration of the general surface : but when we
come to regard the Drift, and the contouring of the rocks which
it protects, fresh water, or sub-aerial denudation in its present
form will not answer. No one will say that rain and rivers brought
a pebble, even only so large as a hazel-nut, from the Syenite dyke
crossing the Crake valley at Hill Park, and dropped it on the
Ulverston fields. No pne will say that rain and rivers brought a
peas-meal cobble from its parent rock still further north, and
buried it six feet deep on Lindale moor in what is now stiff boulder-
clay 1 No rivers or brooks, or system of brooks, would seem to
account for the present distribution of the Furuess upland drif^
neither would a glacial sea. Jet its currents have been ever so
persistent — nor icebergs drifted by those cuirents — indeed so little
does the sea seem to have disturbed the general drift of our up-
huids, so few traces has it left there : that I have had a theory oi
my own regarding the great glacial submergence insisted on by
geologists, that Fumess must surely have descended thickly clad
in an icy coat of mail, and risen again so protected I Rain and
rivers, and brooks, no doubt do, and have done, much in the way
of waste, but in Furness I imagine that, excepting perhaps the
limestone tracts, the ^oid form left by the land ice oi the glacial
period, is, in the maiu, almost as liitie modiiied as a lamellated
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vegetable bulb may be hy the removal of its outer coat. The two^
rain and brooks, asaiat each other to preserve this old form.f
The real question would seem to be whether, exclusively, of waste
by existing agencies, there is anything in the superficial formations
that cannot be referred to them ; and so far as my own investiga-
tions are of any worth, this would appear to be found in the
structure of a general drifl-capping — in the law of its distribution,
and in the smoothing and scoring of the rocks beneath it
With the still older and grander denudations to which geologists
now and then incidentally allude, t this paper professes not to meddle
— only, that just as the marine gravels, derive their name from
mere re-arrangement by the action of the sea : so the general drift
of our uplands, will be regarded as glacial drifb^ even though some
of it be the remnant of a more remote era of denudation.
I propose to treat the subject as briefly as possible, in the follow-
ing order : —
1. Glacier-moraines.
2. Contour of Hills, <fec.
3. ' Striated Rock-surfaces.
4. Drift: Glacial and Marine, — ^their structure and distribution.
Glader-maraines. Tourists who have ever taken conveyance at
Drigg, en route for Wastdale Head, cannot fail to have remarked
the excessive roughness of the roads. No matter whether it was
their luck to secure carriage, car, gig, or drag, both sound and
motion would effectually command attention, before many miles
were travelled. And this roughness iacreases as the mountains
are approached ; until it might be imagined we were on a perfect
sea-beach of stones, only that, on the sea-beach the stones are sea-
worn, and to some degree assorted; while here they are of all size£^
more angular, and rough4
It is the same on the ascent from Ambleside over Kirkstone
to Patterdale ; — and on Honister Pass ; indeed, all through the
* In Whellan's History of Cumberland and Westmoreland, under the
head '' Physical Changes," p. 44, enormous effects are stated to be produced
by " the fresh-water forces of the interior."
t See Prof. Harkness, Quart. Joum. QeoL See. voL XIX, p. 135.
tThe late proprietor oftheD/igg Hotel used to complain, that his horses
seldom accomplished the return joumej without being root lame.
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wildesi parts of the mountaiii district, thei*6 is this general preva-
lence of Btoiij ^und ; wfaick the heavy rains plough up into deep
iNits and holes, until the roads Seem all but impassable.
These stones and boaldei'S are believed in the maiin to be the
sheddini^ of glaciers ; and are called glacier-moraines. Besides
being scattered over the flanks of the hills and down the valleys,
they are, in many places, accumulated into great heaps ; undulating
the passes — damming up niountain-tams — choking ravines —
through which the torrents have had to cut their way. When
tuif-clad, the glacier-moraines are extremely picturesque, and add
great beauty to the scenery : but they contribute no less to its
untamed grandeur, when clothed only with the alpine moss and
lichen. Viewed in connection with their supposed origin, they
afford an interest scarcely surpassed by that which attaches to the
mountain masses themselves.
In denying to the southern half of Fumess, the former presence
of glaciers, observers are, perhaps, misled by the march of cultiva-
tion. Every where covered with a rich verdure, and tolerably
thick coat of soil, the surface presents a marked contrast to the
more natural aspect of the Lake district. But let us pull down
our fences of boulders and sub-angular stones — ^pick them out of
old houses, whe|re sometimes they dignifiedly (1) act as " comer-
stones" — strew them again troadcast over the aoU-demuied gconnd,
and I am much mistaken if they would not, here and there, vie
with that wonder-striking moraine on Kirkstone Pass ! Year by
year, through past generations, in short, ever since man trod upon
Fumess, has this "clearing" work gone on : — all our road- ways,
ancient and modem, are constructed of moraine matter, and for
these purposes the annual consumption must, all along, have been
considerable. Thus it is that lands in the vicinity of towns, rapidly
lose their primitive features, and in highly populated distncts
entirely so. It is a kind of human denudation, not sufficiently
taken account of^ when the superficial features are being studied.
Hill Contour. But there are other relics of an arctic winter^
which, happily, neither the hand of man, nor yet that of time, seems
likely to deprive us of. " Thosie who know the Highlands of Scot"
land^" says Professor Bamsay, '^ remember, that though the weather
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bM had a paweifiil influence upon them — renderiag them in phuses
ragged, jagged, aud cliffy — yet, notwithstanding this, their general
outlines are often remarkably rounded, flowing in greater and
smaHw mamillated curves."*
''The high grounds of Renfrew and Ayrshire, stretching north
into the hmghts of Kilpatrick, and thence into those of Oampsie,
and the Oohils, abound in that union of prominent yet rounded
crag, and gently curving hollow, which indicates the passage of the
ice-sheet, with hardly less deamess than the ripple on the shote
tells of the retreat of the sea/'t Now this outline is very conspic-
uous on the hills near Newland : one remarkably rounded crag
may be seen close to the '' Alps," and there are others nearer Bow*
stead-Gates ; again all^ the way fram Newland to the head of the
Bay, and thence up the valley of the Crake, and doubtless, in
many other directions, amongst our Silurian hills, the same
features may be reoogDized. And not only on the hills : — ^there is a
good instance of rounded rock (similar to those in the vall^ of
the KotJmy, Ambleside,) close to our canal viaduct ; another,
in the low moss ground on the north -«ast of it, is buried under
the railway embankment ; the domed top, I was informed, long
revised to aflbrd good foundation.
Ice-rounded rocks, it is said, are exceedingly common in many
British valleys; eminently characteiistic of those in the Swiss
valleys, and ascribable to the same cause — a coating of thick ice,
'' enveloping the whole land, and ceaselessly pres^ng down towards
the sea, like the great ice-sheet of Greenland."
For full aud interesting matter connected with glacial^on, see
AgassizI "Geological Sketches;" Ramsay, "Physical Geology
and Geography of Great Britain ; " Geikie, " Scenery and Geol-
ogy of Scotland ; " Jukes, Quaii; : Joum : Geol : Soc : Zx)nd :
voL XVIII, part 4, p 378.
Striated rock-ev/rfacee. In searching for these evidencies ofic^-
passage over our slate hills and moors, it is always necessary to
♦ A. C. Ramsay. " Physical Geology and Geography of Great Britam."
t Geikie. " Phenomena of Glacial Drift of Scotland."
t The Swiss geologist, -Agassiz, first led the minds of British geologists
to perceive that our islands had be^ subjected to glaciation.
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remove tbe sod ; and if a boesy rounded crag be selected, the
labour will generally be rewarded by a series of markings or grooY-
ings, readily distinguishable from the lines of structure, and having
a tendency to run in some particular direction. Those I have
found at various points on our high grounds have a general bearing
from a little east of north to west of soutL A good example may
be noticed near the farm-building called the ''Alps/' on the hills to
the north-west of Newland, where a thick bedding of deposit
appears to have been cut away for a road up to the premises.
A beautifully smoothed surface and groove is there exposed to
view. It will now be three years since I first found it; and
although still" good, it is beginning to be turf^grown, and will ere
long Buifer from weathering.
Perhaps the grandest glaciation that we have, is that of the
Carboniferous Limestone on the shore between Bardsea and Aiding-
ham. The planing off and smoothing of these steeply-inclined
beds is most wonderful and beautiful. Their natural dip has
evidently been increased in some places by the stupendous force
that has passed over them : so much so as to make it difficult to
walk upon them ; and where partially covered by the beach pebbles,
the latter slip down under the tread. A few years ago some
of this rock was quarried imder Sea-wood, and the blocks left
lying about on the beach, might really have been taken for di'essed
slabs from some noted marble works !
It is very obvious that glaciation is extended down below the
present marine deposits ; indeed I have not any doubt but that
much of the floor of the Bay is hollowed and smoothed similar to
the shore.
It is to this inclined and slippery base that the canying away by
the sea of a former extension of land is probably due. That there
has been a considerable extension towards the centre of the Bay
is clear from the boulder-clay escarpments that now breast the
tides. When we look at these, the tradition of villages having
once existed further out, becomes less a tradition than an historical
fact.*
* The sea, (we may continue) instead of finding its height in the old
Leven estuaiy somewhere to the east of what ia now the Isle of Foulney,—
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The direction of Btri» on this dopiog floor swerves a little from
N. by E. to N.R by R, or from 10 to 30 degrees east of north ;
but out of nine series of striations, taken at different points, as
well from exposed rocks, as from those protected by the boolder-
day, six answered to tme compass bearings of N.E. by N. to 8.
W. by S., or about 30 degrees east of north to 30 degrees west of
south.
All the above stiis may very likely be regarded as the primary
striae of Furuess — striae due to gladation by one prevailing ice-
sheet, entirely covering the country when a good deal elevated.
But I believe we have other striae which may be referred to a later
period, and connected more with the breaking up of ice into the
form of glaciers, which would flow in determinate directions, sub-
ordinate to certain causes, such as lines of ibults, softness of strata,
and other influences belonging to the old ^ form of the ground," but
which the great ice-sheet would ride over and ignore.
One instance of these later striations occurred near Penny
Bridge, on the road from Gawithfield, in a gravel hole. I greatly
regret the quick destruction, for building and other purposes, of
this fine rock surface. It exhibited a series of parallel flutings,
architectural in their regularity, and about an inch and a half
apart ; the flattened interspaces might have been iK>li8hed by the
hand, they were so exquisitely smooth, and their fine hair-like
striae could only be detected with a lens. Though showing no
signs of fracture, yet when the attempt was made to bring home
some specimens, such had been the weight and pressure the rock
had sustained in the process, it was found to be literally crushed to
pieces, as if it had been an egg-shell, so that no specimen containing
more than one groove and smoothed space could poHsibly be obtained.
or; to come atill nearer our own time, instead of biting only at the old shell
beach, long since gone,— proudly spreads its sandy shroad over the accom-
plishra ruin, and still craving more, at length cuts sharp and sheer into the
stamina of our land, and in that harder work makes steady and certain pro-
eresfe. At the same time we may not forget that, instead of the sea marching
in its migesty upon the land, it is the land, so to speak, that is kneeling to
the sea — it is to alternate depressions and elevations ot the land that such
changes are due. On the Cumberland coast at Whitbeck, '' old roads and
hedges are visible some distance below low- water mark."— Whellan's "Hist
Cumberland and Westmoreland." 1 have myself observed sectional beds
of peat-drift and pebbles, north of liavexigg.
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Thd direction of these strieB, I consider bas connection wiik the
hollowing out of tl^ Crake channel — any markings that can be
repealed nov bj throwing off the cover, give from 10 to 30 d^;rees
west of north ; which answers very well to the wayj recess cut
back into the side of Legbanraw, and through which the present
stream modortfy dips out to sea.
The grayels resting on the above rock are river-gravels.
The Drift. The little promontory of Furness, forming as it
does, the land-foot of .both Cumberland and North Lancashire,
occupies a position well suited to afford evidence in qnesticms of
Pleistoc€ine, and post Pleistocene, denudation. While i^ receive?
on the north and north-east, a considerable share of drainage from
the southern flunks of the main mountain ridge ; so all its southern
slopes are subject to the play of 3ea and tidal currents, — the one,
instructing us in atmospheric demidation ; the other, in ma^ne.
In regard to its lithology, I s]>eak with diffidence, but I thinj^ it
probable that, within so small an areia, there could scai-cely be
exampled a greater variety of rock-structure, than is presented on
the declining grounds and shores of Furness : and this at the same
time subject to an arrangement and law of distribution, which, if
WELL STUBIKD, would be admirably fitted to guide towards definite
agencies of transport
BovMer-clay, The chief characters of this deposit are these.
Its stones and boulders sub-angular, flattened, smoothed, striated,
mainly of local transportation, and disposed without stratificaticm'
in a more or less clayey material
But hard as t^e boulder-clay is, when in situ, yet, inasmuch as
it is not wholly impervious to rain, there may be found in it^ bars,
thin seams, and in some places beds, of gravels and sands, which at
once have been formed by the atmospheric infiuences, and are the
channels whereby the drainage is carried down to the rock. It
may not be safe to speculate upon their antiquity, but it is only
natural to suppose that as the snows (or the ice) fell off, the perco-
lation of rain-water would commence.
By obtaining rough sections of numerous well-sinkin^gs, under
the town of Ulverstone, a pretty accurate knowledge oi' Kheae strati-
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fled becb is arrived ai They ai^ knowfi to die sitiker ae water-
bars» and are, I think, identical in cha)*acter witii those seen in
section on the moors ; and in the Fumess Railway cutting at the
time of its cobstruction. Thej are often found dry ; hence several
are passed before one containing water is reached.
They ai*e described as *' having an average dip or incline of one
quarter of an inch in five feet. The gravels lie between yellow
sand beds, which are smooth on their interior surfaces, (ie., the
surfaces in contact with the gravels)«and are very compact. The
pebbles are chiefly of the Silurian slates. Occasionally granite *
pebbles occur and have this peculiarity, that the beds containing
them are seldom more than two inches thick." The boulder-clay
is said to " shade off with beautiful regularity from the yellow
sands to that of its own, which is generally blueish, though occa-
sionally other tints prevail. Under the west of the town the
boulder-clay is so hard as to break the pick point ; is very dry,
and free of gravel seams for a great depth.''
This interesting deposit occurs in patches on our hills, is spread
more thickly on our moors, descends next the rock-surfiBtce into
the vales, forms fine sections on our south-eastern shores, consti-
tutes the base-ground of the islands in the mouth of the bay, ahd
'finally dips down under the seia, and present marine, formations, t
It has been already said that one of the characters of the boul-
der-clay is, that its stones are mainly of local derivation.
This is remarkably true ; and the same evidence which proves
it^ also shows that the eroding and moving power was exerted
from the N.E.
The geographical position of our principal rock-strata is &miliar
to everyona There are the sandstones (Permian) to the S. W. and
* I doubt the nresence of granite under the town ; it is possible the
pebbles might be oi yein-quartz, a little coloured.
1 1 formerly believed its most southern inland limit was at Harbarrow ;
vide ^ Qeologist," and it is principallj owing to the obliging courtesy of Mr.
J. Crowe, of Leece, that the correct knowledge of its extension southward
has been obtained. The first intimation of an out-crop of the bouldw-<slaT
at Rampside was received from Professor William mng, F.G.S., Queen's
Gollese, Gal way. From the fact of its overlying the Permian sandstoDe&, and
partaking largely of their nUbris. its distinctive characters, as compared with
the marine cliffs to the N.W. and N.E. of it, are ] '
I times of the year
very perceivable.
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S. The limestone (Carboniferous) occupies the next ground to the
-N. and £. of the sandstones, and the blue slates and grits (Lower
Silurian*) foim our beautifid hills awaj up to the mountains.
Now, 1st, in the boulder-claj, we do not find the Permian d&>ris
lying upon the limestone, nor anj mingling of it with the d&nia
of the latter. The limestone debris is certainly, in some places,
very red in colour^ but this would appear to arise from the lime-
stone being greatly impregnated with iron ore, and also from the
quantity of angular and rubbed pebbles of that mineral, which the
limestone boulder-clay contains. All over Dendron, Leece, Gleas-
ton, and up to Dal ton, we constantly fiod these little squared
lumps mingled with the soils ; and boulders, some of them rather
large, occur in the gravels at Park House.
2nd. On the other hand, limestone appears to enter a good deal
into the d^ris upon the Permian of the S.W., (as at Hawcoat),
and gives to the deposit there, rather a light colour.
3rd. Again, although the boulder-day on the limestone is free
from the western sandstone, it is largely per-cented with slate from
the north — and,
4th. As we advance upon the slate ground, we entirely lose
the limestone of the south.
This is all very significant of a definite direction of erosion and
transport, and bears out well with the direction of striie, before
noticed.
Reverting to the rocks : there are dykes, or long narrow strips
of supposed trap-rock, called Syenite, which strike parallel to each
other, right through the slate hills betwixt Ulverstone and the
heads of Couiston and .Windermere. Their general colour is
yellow, or what is called salmon colour ; although, within a yard,
both white, grey, yellow, or red, and sometimes brown may he
quarried.
Stones from these rocks are scattered profusely over all Fumess ;
there is not a road in any part of the country, let us walk where
we will, where Syenite pebbles may not be picked up. (They are
associated with a pleasant yet mournful interest, for the first
Syenite pebble I ever saw or noticed, was given me at Scale Force,
* HarkQe88.--Quart : Journ : Geol : Soc. YoL XXII. p. 480.
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Crmiimock-water, by the late venerable and lamented Mr. Wri|^,
of Keswick^ under whose kind and able tuition I had hoped to
make progress in the noble science of Geology.)
And, lastly, from the region of the Green slates and Pori>hyries,
stretching across the highest ground of our lake country, we have,
sprinkled over the land from shore to hill-top, and entering as well
as the Syenites, though not so numerously, into the composition of
our boulder-clay : — specimens of Greenstone, — Greenstone with
garnets, — Conglomerated Greenstone,-— Greenstone Porphyry, —
Compact Felstone, — Felstone-Porphyry, and others, which I am
not competent to name.
They generally, excepting the latter, pass imder the local names
of " Peasmeal boulders," — " Peas-mealers,'* and, more north,
" Pezz-willies." Some few are of magnificent size, but when they
happen to rest in a fertile field, the farmer, thinking them no
ornament, and grudging them standing room, will sometimes dig
a hole, and give them a grave !
Gravelly Drift. In the North Lonsdale Magazine, No. 2,
August, it was shown that the gravelly strata stretching between
TJlverstone and Bardsea, bad been subjected to sea-action, from the
fact that shells and shelly debris are met with in them nearly as
high as 1 00 feet above the sea. This is singular at first sight :
but then these gravels really form the sides of a recess of the shore,
into which the tides ascended considerably, until late years. Jiveo
a high spring tide at the present day, with a heavy gale in the
right direction, would, if the Jlood-gates were destroyed, presently
show us the true line of shore ; and with a slight depression oi the
land, its waves would again wash the gravels.
It is in recesses like i^ese that loose marine deposits find protec-
tion against the same element that formed them.
As we ascend higher than 100 feet up the drainage courses, the
gravels become interstratified with exceedingly fine sands (or
aluminous matter), which seem to belong to sub-aerial influence,
rather than that of the sea.
I do not wish to attach more value to it than it deserves ; but
under the microscope, there is a striking difference between the
present marine deposits and the finer stratifications on the land.
In preparing fossil diatoms for the microscope, a process of
separation from earthy particles by gravitation, is resorted to ; tlie
bulk of the diatoms being generally light in comparison with that
of the other. When this process ha» been successfully accom-
plished, it is surprising how uniform in size the silicious particles
in the various gi'avitated portions have become.
Now this precisely illustrates the difference between the land
deposits and the marine. The land deposits, represent in every
T
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describing the nature and charaoteristicB of the various species of
rock which from having undergone certain adventitious changes
are described bj the term metamorphic. He informed me that for
such investigation as I proposed to enter upon, no other district
that he knew afforded the same facilities as our English lake
country. Acting on this information, I started for the North,
furnished with a letter of introduction to a brother in the science,
at Eendal who, though only a mechanic, has, bj a long course of
self-culture and diligent special study, made himself an acknow-
ledged authority on the wonderful geological formation and arrange-
ment of his romantic district My friend led me to hope that tins
interesting fellow-labourer might be induced to accompany me and
direct me in my tour of research ; but on aniving at Kendal, I
found that he was confined to his house by foiling health. The
presentation, however, of my credentials, obtained me admission
to his room, and I had, with him, a long and most interesting con-
versation on our common pursuit, gaining from it much valuable
information in furtherance of the particular object of my journey.
What was most important, he shewed me that, on the heights to
the south-west of the vale of Buttermere, the transition line of
the great primary and secondary systems of slate formations is
penetrated by the upheaval of the Igneous porphyrite or syenite
rock, and that as I mainly wished to collect specimens illustrating
the structural changes effected in the different formations by the
operation of Plutonic agencies, that locality was beyond all com-
parison my most favourable ground. He further supplied me with
such topo§raphical instructions as he said would enable me, with
a map, a compass, and the company of any native acquainted with
the hills, to find the locality without difficulty or danger.
The next evening I was taking mine ease at Scalehill, a very
comfortable inn, occupying a very beautiful situation ; and on the
following morning, the dvil landlord accompanied me so &r on my
way to the fells that he was able to point out a fium where he
thought I might find a guide sufficient for my purpose. After a
pleasant walk by a stile road, through meadows and patches of
com land, I came to the form indicated, and found the former and
his family busy about the yard. My request for a guide was not
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received favourably at first, but the mention of remuneration
made all smooth, and an uncouth but frank-looking lad, whose
same I found was Joe, soon made himself ready to accompany me
to the hills. With his aid I had not much difficulty in finding the
locale^ and Succeeded beyond my hopes in cramming the stout
wallets I had provided for the purpose with such Sj. r^imens of rock
as I was in quest of. My guide regarded these proceedings with,
at first, an expression of surprise on his honest-looking face, but
that, after a single question as to my reason for coming there for
bits of stone, settled down into a permanent and unmistakable look
of contempt He, however, performed his part of our contract
quite to my satisfisustion, and carried my two heavy bags of stone
with sturdy, uncomplaining patience, home to his father's fiBum,
where we arrived at dusk, and whence, after partaking of his
mother's homely but freely-ojQfered hospitality, paying Joe his well-
earned fee, and arranging with him to bring the bags to Scalehill
in the morning, I started on my way back to the inn, fatigued,
but well pleased with my ramble and its results, and charmed with
the moonlit scenery and wondering at the prevailing stillness so
unlike the ceaseless roar to which I had been accustomed at home.
Joe made his appearance at the proper time, and I took the
opportunity of showing my sense of his mother^s hospitable atten-
tion by returning it, in kind, to him, paid him his second fee, saw
him deposit the bags on the carriage 1 had engaged to take me to
Keswick, shook him by the hand, and left him looking well satisfied
lounging at the inn door.
On arriving at my home in town, I handed my bags of speci-
mens over to my servant, with injunctions to take great care of
them till I found time to examine and classify their contents.
My metamorphic fragments from one cause or other remained
unlooked at for some months, when I was honoured by a long-
promised visit from a distinguished foreign geologist, whose
acquaintance I had made abroad, and ./:th whom I had held occa-
sional correspondence on matters relating to our favourite science.
Feeling that when thus honoured, it were selfish and worse to
keep such a distinguished visitor all to myself, I invited most of
the kindred spirits of my acquaintance who happened to be in
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London^ or witim rea^ to meet and dine with him a TAnglak
The party betog not too btrge for general oonvenaticm, our tiber
dinner chat turned, of course, to the subject in which we all Mi a
common interest, and some one of my guests making reference to
plutonic and metamorphic rocks, I mentioned the acquisition I
had made at the hikes the preeedfng summer, and calling mj
servant I directed him to bring in ^hb contents of the bags I had
entrusted to him, on tr«jn. IHiis exeited considerable interest, and
I had time to dilate a little upon tiie <^racter of my specimens
and what they demonstrated, before they were brought in, and this
I did with considerable pride. Fancy my mortification and dismay
when my servant placed befbre my eagerly expectant guests, nofe
my carefully sdected feigment» of roek displgymg the remarkaUe
interblending, oohesion, conglomeratiQn, interspersion, and admix-
ture tiiat I had boasted cf as-beli^ so distinetlj marked in the
varieties of rock at the spot whoice I bi^ught them, but a cdleo-
tion of rudely broken lumps of dai^ stone, all of the same descrip-
tion. ** WeU, Elderley," said my old friend who had come to town
fbr the occasion, ^* there is nothing here but bits of Skiddaw skie;
you must have taken your specimens, aa you queerly enough call
them, at random, fvom a heap of macadam by some road side about
Keswick ! " the mirth that now began to break out laroand tbe
table receiTed an irresistible impuke from my foreign visitor, who
asked, ** In vat group place you de roke you call macadam T' and
the laugh became universal and unrestrained. Indeed, I oould
not help joining in it myself, though almost too angry to obmrve
the politeness of demeanour indisp^isable in a host I rang the
bell furiously, however, and demanded of my servant whom he
had allowed to tamper with the bags while wader his chaiga He
assured me that ihey had stood untou^ed in a cupboard, to which
he aJone had access, ever since he received them, and the fiuthinl
services of many years supported tiiis assertion too strongly to
admit any doubt of its truth. I was Ibreed, thwelbre, to tha con-
viction that my honest-ftoed friend, Jee, had played me the uglj
trick on the morning wh^i I trusted him to bring my treasura to
' the inn at SeaJehill. It is useless to dwell longer on that vezatMNS
denouement^ and it is not easy tounagJEM the amount ni annoyance
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iM pi^p6rtter(Kffi 8tibfft»l«i1» has OiHWdoiMd m& T& tOSy tiothittg
more of the ten-ible Hhoek of ite first discovery tmd6f fitreh httnli-
Katang circumittonces — it upBet a pet dchedM, wkici^, lik« Gten<eviev€^0
'' Gentle wishes long subdae^
Siibdded and cherished Xojig,^
Iftd fortimatelj Ibt me b^en kept fauUea m tin Inlowt where it
Ijwnninated. The pejeoi in <|«attieB wall niithing less than the
prepBiatiQiii of a paper fbe ei» seotion of ihe Britirii Aflsoeiatioii
whidi these mifortiaxiate BpecinenB were destined to iUustrste.
It has been a standing joke against ine ever sinee mj dinner
prty, and I ha^e reason to bdieye HtsJt in tiie less digmfied
flcientifio oiroles of this metropolis, I am dultingtdshed in oonee-
qoMMie by the disrespectfol sobriquet "Old Metam<»phio. '
9er a long time the very thooglit of that ihteMsting olass of rook
was hateftil to me^ but this feelinggmduallj wore awaj, and at
length nothing remained bat a sense of the Indicrons character of the
Irhc^ affair which impelled me to langh whenever the recollection
of my disappointment occurred to mj mind. At last in the sum*
merof sixtj-five, I determined to make another attempt to supply
myseltf with iUustrations to my stiU projected paper, andl again
travelled northward to the lakes, and again eat down in my pleasant
quarters at Scalehifi.
I soon found ihert I was oomwt in atkibnting my misfortune,
for it was nothing less, to that cub of a Joe, and I had ahnost
decided upon retumii^ homib-^4nfieta re eMne — when the land*
lord told n^ that my simple firank-lookii^ guide's aceount of aur
adventure and Aip soanddous trick had iAim the fimey of some
idle scribbler or other/ and thait it had oj^if^esiteA ipsipma twr5o as
related by Joe, in a local paper, and then in a pamphlet fbrm, had
biBen droulated in tiiousands, throughout the coun^, had been
read in private cirdes and in public assemblicsj and laujghed at
evfflywhere, so that I had come baoU to the lakes t6 ^d myself
fitnious; To my surprise the landlord insisted upon* bis belief thttt
Joe meant no mischief' when he made tbs' substituiion ik^t had
cost me so dear, but had hooCedy. believed he' was dbing^ ine tio
WToikgin relieving himself of thb laiMM» of c^ stoneirse
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&r, and replacing them from a Macadamised heap near the inn.
In fact he did not think Joe capable of playing a trick designedly
upon any one, but that in this, as in everything he did, he had
acted with perfect good faith and intention. He further informed
me that the farmer, Joe's father, was then in the house, and pro-
posed that he should, as of his own accord, tell him to acquaint
his son with the news of my return. To this T assented, for I felt
cuiious to put the landlord's extraordinary belief to the test^ and
to hear from himself how the genius who had made himself a local
oelebiity at my cost, would defend or explain his conduct Tins
cutiosity was soon to be gratified, for next morning as I was
-writing letters, the waiter informed me that Joe was then asking
for me. I desired the waiter to bring him in, and after an angry
remonstrance outside with the waiter for announcing him, Joe
entered with a frown of strong displeasure on his face, which pa^
tially cleared as he advanced towards me with the obvious
intention of shaking hands. I took no notice of his half extended
hand, but assuming all the sternness in look and tone of which I
was capable^ I demanded how he dared to show his face there.
The frown returned with a vengeance, and he let fly a wonderful
storm of indignation about my ears, which being delivered with
surprising volubility, in the broad patois of the district, I was not
able very perfectly to follow. It was evident^ however, through it
all, that he was unconscious of having done anything to be ashamed
of, or that even required explanation. When he had pretty nearly
exhausted himself, and, as I suppose, his vocabulary as well, I
asked him quietly, why, in his opinion, I had given myself so
much trouble to obtain the fragments of stone, and, as I unde^
stood him, he coolly gave me to know that he thought I did so
because I was not sane. To try him &trther, I then told him that
changing the stones was either a dirty trick or a very clumsy joke,
and this set him off again in another tirade in which he accused
me of gross folly in thinking one bagful of stones not so good as
another, and of vanity, in supposing I could break stones better
than an old man who broke them for his living. He wound up,
however, in a quieter key by informing me that he could recover
for me the identical specimensy the loss of which had vexed me
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8o sorelj. This made all straight between tis, and a little further
discussion, but with no more delay than was required to equip
myself for a walk and procure the leathern sacks, which Joe
grinned at as he received them from my hands, he and I set out on
another geologising expedition, the people of the inn looking after
us with evident amusement. It was not until we came within a
quarter of a mile of his house that Joe showed me the place where
my lamented specimens had been emptied from their receptacles
some years before, and where, being deposited close to the fence
wall, they had lain undisturbed, as Joe had already assured me
would be the case. So far as I knew, not a single bit of stone was
miasing, and examining them one by one, I replaced them all in the
bags, carefully '^ as though I loved them," and Joe and I returned
to Scalehill triumphant — for, odd as it may seem, he really appeared
to j<»in heartily in the exultation I felt at recovering what he, in
such a provoking manner, had caused me to lose. Having thus
achieved the object of my second visit to Scalehill, with less trouble
and much more amusement than I anticipated, my pet project has
returned upon me with all the greater force, that it had been so
long and so cruelly suppressed ; and it is possible that before
many more sessions pass over, the transactions of the Geological
Section of the British Association for the Advancement of Science,
may really be enriched by my paper on Metamorphic Rocks, after
which consumatLon of a long-cherished ambition, my junior
collaborateurs wiU be more than welcome to call me '' Old Meta-
morphic " to the end of the chapter.
§iimt^ (B»^)xp.
AMERICAN WIT AND HUMOUR.
By the Bevd. Henry NoeH^Feamy M.A,; F.B.S,
If England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland, have their particular
phases of wit and humour, and if it be possible to trace so marked
a difference in their manifestations as to say, this witticism is from
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the noiih and this from the south of the Tweed — this from the
west and this from the east shore of the Irish Sea, it is only rea-
sonable to expecfc that America should furnish its variations aLia
A glance at the hifltory of the language or dialect spoken in
America will help ua much in the consideration of this questiim.
Five and twenty or thirty years ago, there was but one language
spoken over all the states comprehended in the great American
Union. The more highly educated spoke pure English as they do
now, and as now with an accent which distinguished them from
the natives of '^ the old country ; " but the less educated from
Maine to Virginia, and perhaps even further south, spoke a dialect
composed of all the local dialects in England There is scarcely
one of those strange colloquialisms which we are so much in the .
habit of noticiug as being American, and which we so generally
consider of transatlantic growth, which is not in fact an English
provincialism, and as might be reasonably expected considering the
East Anglian origin of the majority among the first settlers, a
large preponderance of words and phrases will be found in the
American dialect, the origin of which may be traced without
difficulty to the counties of Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk. At a
later, period Yorkshire and Lancashire fumiHhed their quota to the
population, and their dialects a contribution to the common talk,
and later still, Somerset, Devon, and the West. Thus it may be
said that the current American language was the East Anglian
dialect of the English, upon which in the course of time words
and phrases from every other English provincial dialect were en-
grafted, the Midland counties from obvious causes furnishing the
smallest proportion. But as the Union went on enlarging, absorb-
ing province after province which had once belonged to fcSpain, and
conquering from the buffiilo and the wild Indian the rich plains
of the West, then came not only a new element into the popula-
tion, but a new constituent into the languaga The southern states
were originally colonized more from the west than the east of
En<^laud, they now graduaiJy adopted many iSpanish habits of life
aud modes of ihougiit, iSpauish words and phrases were iubroduced,
Spanish proverbs and witticisms became common, and a very
marked difference was soon perceptible between the language of
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the South and that of the North. In the west the two intermin-
gled, and a kind of ** langue d* ArgU ** sprung np, such as charao-
terizes all border people, and soon became intensified by the
wild life and primitiye habits of these rangers of the wilderness.
A distinot western dialect thus arose suiting a new and distiaet
people. Meantime the eastern states, and especiallj the great state
of New York, were receiving continual streams of immigration^
aU the countries of the old world furnishing their quota, bat
principalij Ireland and Germany. The former provided hardy^
bat riotous labourers ; the latter steady and industrious artisans.
It c^ hardly be thought strange that a race so imaginative and so
eloquent as the Irish, should naturally influence the language cf
those among whom they lived. The effect of their immigration
is easily traceable in this respect. The Germans, more quiet and
meditative, have had less influence^ and what they have had ia less
perceptible, inasmuch as it is likely to be confounded with that of
the original Dutch settlers. At the same time a kind of cosmo-
politan dialect of the English tongue may be said to prevail at
New York, its vocabulary being for the most part English, but its
idioms and phraseology taken from every nation under heaven.
There are thus at the present time four distinct dialects of our
language spoken in America, which may with sufficient precision
for our purpose be called — North, South, East, and West. Now,
as language will be found the best test of nationality, we may take
it for granted that what holds good in other lands, will be found
to obtain in America also, and that we shall find four distinct
kinds or phases of wit and humour. Nor shall we be disappointed.
In the north-eastern states we shall find both keen, cutting, sar-
castic, and boastful, not boastful with the rich raciuess of the Irish
visitor to London, who wept when he saw Greenwich Hospital,
<* because it put him in mind of his poor father^s stables at Castle-
Kenny,'' nor with the exuberant hyperbole o£ the Andalusian, who
threatened that he would fiing his enemy into the air so high that
he bliouid uever come down again — but with a quiet, dry, calcula-
tiug mibcalculation such ba we see ia bam ISlick. Eveiythiug
Ameiicau is weli-uigh perlect, and on ons of hi>i clucks he paints
a piQtojre. representing.a.trioqp of Angels leaving^Heavi^ tQ settle
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in that land, which he oalls an ** Airthly Paradise/' and distio-
gniahes accordingly by the initials A. P. The clockmaker's ideas
of A. P. may be understood by the character of his landscape-
there is a field with '* a great white two-stoiy house " in it, " on
one side a washing-tub full of apple »arse " — on the other side a
cartful of pumpkin pies. It may be mentioned that the celestial
side is labelled '' H. E." for Heavenly £migrant& In all this Mr.
Slick makes it perfectly plain that he is not joking, &r from it
It may be very funny to the hearer or reader, but he is speaking
precisely his genutotne sentiments on iAke subject No people speak
in such absurd terms of their country as do the Americans, bat
none speak with more sincerity. This boastful spirit is exhibited
in another curious way. Many American witticisms are furnished
with a conclusion, setting forth the wonderful effects of tho bonr
mot which has just been related. We are apt^ in England, to
think this a mere giatuitous piece of vulgarity, and some of the
journals which are constantly repeating American anecdotes, almost
invariably relate them in all simplicity, and without the "tag.''
"William," said a teacher to one of his pupils, " can you tell me why
the sun rises in the east ? " " Don't know, sir 'cept it be that the
east (yeast) makes everything rise." Teacher Jainied. — "Father, are
there any boys in Congress ) " " No, my son, why do you ask that
question 1 " " Why because uncle Jabe said that the members had
kicked Mr. Brown's £ill out of the House." Feather hoe not yet
recovered his canadousneee, — Another story concludes by the infor-
mation that " our compositor hoe been in fits ever since," Now
granting that these additions are in themselves stupid vulgarisms,
and nothing more, there must be a reason for them, they are only
found in America, or in imitations of American wit It would
seem that the narrator must have something to connect himself
with the story, there must be some matter of importance of which
he alone is the communicator, the reader's interest is not to be so
concentrated on the anecdote as to leave none for the narrator—
" anche io son pittore."
'Cuteness is a Yankee quality. It must be borne in mind that
the term Yankee is not applicable to all Americans. A New
Yorker is not a Yankee, and none can claim the appellation save
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the natives of the New England States. We find that this 'cute-
ness is the quality most particularly praised and valued. If we
are to judge of them by their jests, they are rather dangerous
people to trade with — wooden nutmegs, clay hams, and a thousand
other such ^'noUona" form their stock-in-trade, and a book of no
small dimensions might be made from anecdotes of the success
which imposture meets with. Mr. Bamum's life and experience is
an instance in pointy and there seems a strange kind of indi£ferenoe
which way the story turns, whether the rogue or the intended
victim gets the better in the transaction.
Look at Mr. Bamum's story of the goose feathers again« Here
a sharp practitioner contracts for a large quantity of feathers,
agreeing to give a very high price, one which must make the
bargain an extremely unprofitable one for himself, and as lucrative
a one for the purveyor of the articla But he also stipulates that
he is to have them at a price as ruinously low if they do not turn
out to be " pure goose feathers,'' and with no mixture of anything
else. Of course the common understanding of such a bargain
would be that there was to be no mixnire of the feathers of any
other sorts of fowl But the dealer who was to furnish the feathers
saw a little deeper, and in due time he brought the immense load
of feathers home. Now came the test. " Wall," said the pro-
posed buyer, *^ I calculate that this 'ere aint precisely what you
and me bargained for. I guess," continued he, taking some of the
feathers in his hands, *^ that there's gander's feathers mixed with
these here, and so I reckon I'll be takin' 'em at the lower price."
But the feather collector had foreseen the trick. " No, uncle Steve,
said he, " they're all pure goose feathers, ne'er a gander's among
'em, and here's the certificate to pix>ve the sama" This was
sufficient, the feathers were paid for at the higher price, and the
intended chicanery defeated.
It would be easy to multiply similar instances, but we shall take
only one more. '^ I calculate I couldn'nt drive a trade with you
to-day," said a true specimen of a Yankee pedlar, at the door of a
merchant in St Louis. '^ I calculate you calculate about right,"
was the sneering reply. " Wall I guess you needn't get hufiy
about it— now here's a dozen of raal genuumte razor strops, worth
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two dollarB and a half, you may have 'em for two dollars." ** 1
tell you 1 don't want any of your tirash, so you had better be
going/' "Waal now I declare I'll bet you five dollars if you
make me an offer for them 'ere strops^ we'll have a trade yet."
'' Done/' replied the merchant^ placing the money in the hands of
a bye^stander, the Yankee depouted the l&e sum, when the mer*
ehant offered him a couple of oenta fbr his strops. " They're
youTBy" said the pedlar, as he pocketed l^e stakes. ** But^" he
added) with aj^i'ent honesty, ** a joke is a joke, and if' you don't
want them strops I reckon 1*11 ia^ back." The merchanifM
oauntenanoe brightened as he replied, '' WeU, you're not so bad a
9faap after all, here are the strops, give me the money." Th6
Yankee received the straps baek and car^Uy packed them wilii
the rest of his stock, and then coolly parsed over the tufo cents to
the merchant ^ There it is — ^a traders a trade — and now that yon
wee awake in ri^t earnest^ I guess you'll do better next time than
to buy rasor stK^oe," and away he went with his strbps and hid
wmger amidst, the shouts of the laughing crowd. The most* ridieu^
Ions kinds of exaggeration are Yankee. The hills in the state of
Vermont ate rather steep, or as the natives say considerably up
and down« It is related that a coachman dHving up cne^ was
asked if it were as steep on the other idde. ^^ Steep !" was the
reply, "chain lightning couldn't get down it without breeehing
on." The story probably came from the same locality of a celt
which was chased five times round a paddock by a flac^ of light-
ning, and escaped at last Here, too, it is we hear of greased
lightning, of chain lightning, of a flask of %htni&g walking into
a gooseberry bush, d^a, ko.
The reader desirous of examining more closely this speeies of
wit) will do well to read attentively the works of Judge Hatibar*
ton, where he will find emanating from Sam Slxek) of Sli(^;tvi}Ie^
the Yankee clookmaker, not only a great fund of good sense, and
valuable information about our North American Colonies, bat a
perfect treasury of that peculiar wit and humour for whieh th^
New England states are remarkable. But we must not fdrget that
we have mentioned four different dialects (d the language used iA
America, and eaek of tkese adapted^tO' the hiilHLt»ofa*diff(Mt»nt
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people. We prooeed Soutbwavdi along the ooeot, and ve fiad our-
selves in a more cosmopolitan region. The memory of the Pilgrim
Fathers is no longer venerated. The colonial history of the state
is more Dutch than English, and there is scarcely a nation in the
world that has not added some units to swell its population. New
York, erven more than Constantinople, is the city of the whole
world, and consequently the wit imd humour of such a city and
such a state, must share in the cosmopolitan character. Tet even
in spite of this, New York does not cease to be American, and we
shall find side by side with witticisms and specimens of humour
which might have dated equally from China or Peru, some which
could only have orig^ted in an American mind. Let us take a
few examples of each, beginning with the more universal During
a medical examination^ a student was asked, " when does mortifi-
catioa ensue t " he replied, '* when you pop the question, and are
answered — No t '' ^*I talk a great deal," said a loquacious mer-
chant iu New York — ^but then I talk well" His friend replied,
<^ We can only admit half of that proposition.'' A gentleman was
accosted in Broadway by a beggar, " I wiQ remember you next
time,'' said ha " Thank you, sir," was the reply, ** but I don't
do business on that principle— all my transactions are for cash."
These wiU require no comment^ save that they are instances of the
ubiquity of wit — ^the last being related also of a Chinese beggar,
and the first of a student of Guy's Hospital We next turn to
some of the peculiarly Ainerican specimens. One class of these
oonsists in taking some common metaphorical expression^ treatiilg
it literally, and then contuimng or concluding the story, for
instance, — ^ The man who had his eye on a bargain for six months
h»& recently taken it off again." " The lady who melted into tears
has been congealed a^in into flesh and blood." '' The tear that
was dropped on the fate of an unfortunate lady has not been picked
up again." *' The little boy who lost his balance has not yet found
it." " The man who courted an investigation says it is not half so
pleasant as courting a young lady." This ia merely a phase of
punning, and by no means a satisfactory one. Somewhat more
amusing are the extravagant hyp^boles which abound in the same
locality, and which differ from those of more northern growth, in
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that instead of being mere Munchausen-like amplifications, they
infer the hyperbole from some action described — ^an action too in
its owix nature utterly impossible. Thus we are told of a man
being so tall that he had to get up a ladder to shave himselfl Of
another in the same predicament, who in his ordinary intercourse
with the world of smaller men, was wont to double himself up like
a three feet rule. Another man is represented as long and thin
that it took six weeks fattening to make a decent skeleton of him,
but haying arrived at this point by means of white com hominy
and 'possum &t, he made progress at so rapid a rate that in six
months more ib took him a whole day to walk round himself !
Who does not remember the oyster which was of so enormous a
size that it required three men to swallow it whole. The lady who
was so absent that she dropped herself into the letter box instead
of her letter, and was only brought back to recollection by being
asked if she were single. The tree which was so lofty that it took
two men to see to the top of it, one beginning where the other left
off. These can hardly be called wit — they are mere drolleries
verging upon wit, so far as they have the semblance of an ail-
ment in them, but destroying the alignment at the same time by
the suggestion of an impossibility. In the celebrated instance fur-
nished by Hood, the suggested impossibility is removed. [He
chewed] his pigtail till he died. The sailor would really chew his
pigtail whether his head were turned or not. At first we laugh at
the exquisite absurdity, we then suddenly see that the absurdity
only existed in oar own minds. In the American examples the
absurdity is a reality, and so far it destroys the wit We now
proceed still further SoUth, and we find ourselves In states that
once formed a part of the Spanish dominion, and where even yet
Spanish ideas linger and are cheiished, and here wit and humour
take a Spanish form. Negro wit is often supposed to form a class
by itself, and that whatever else may be said of it, and whatever
be thought of its merit, it is at all events original. 1';. 3re is no
more mistaken idea than this. The negro mind rarely originates
anything. Negro melodies are but variations of old airs. Negro
sermons are but adaptations of old homilies ; and Negro witticisms
will be found to be either mere bulls, in which the race h» as fruit-
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fol as ever the IriBh was reckoned to be, or importations from old
Spain — on the ktter we shall now proceed to speak. It may not
be easy to show why an Eboe or Comorantyn Negro should have
any connection with Spain and its notions, but we must bear in
mind that Spanish colonists first took Negroes to America, and
the greater namber of the Negro slaves in America are home bred,
and that their songs, dances, and ban mots, are to a great extent
traditions. This of itself would account for much that is Spanish
in the habits of the Negro race. In addition to this it most be
remembered that there is a far greater affinity between the tribes
which inhabit Africa and Oriental races, than between these same
tribes and the Europeans. Now the Spaniards are half Moorish,
they have exactly that mixture of African and Asiatic blood which
would render their persons and government ^ more acceptable to
Negroes than could ever be the case with the Teutonic nations.
Spaniards, cruel as they have been in Cuba to their " field-hands,"
have been as remarkable for their humanity to their house-slaves,
and have never been unpopular masters. It may be in part owing
to this cause, and certainly to a great extent owing to all these
causes combined that so much that is Spanish has been preserved
among the Negro slaves of America. But having given these
reasons why the case should be so, let us now show that it really
is sa Everybody familiar with wha£ are called ^' Negro Melodies,"
knows that the words are for the most part utter nonsense, some-
times lively nonsense— more usually stupid nonsense. Take an
instance or two— ["oh I say if I was you,'' and "I say if you
was me," and " I say if we both was somebody else I wonder who
we'd be."] The best very rarely rises above such doggrel as the
following :t—
SUSANNA DON'T YOU CRY.
I come firom Alabama wid my banjo on my knee,
Fm g'wan to Louisiana my true love for to see.
It rain'd all night de day I left, de weather it was dry,
De sun so hot I froze to death, Susanna don't you cry.
Oh ! Susanna ! oh, don't you cry for me,
Fve come from Alabama wid my banjo on my knee,
I jump'd aboard the telegraph, and trabled down de nber :
De electric fluid magnified and killed five hundred nigger.
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De buUginea burst, dd hone ran off ; I really thought Fd die ;
I shut my eyes to hold my breath— Susanna, dont you cry.
Oh ! Susanna, &c.
I had a dream de oder mght when every tinjc was still,
I thought I saw Susanna a-coming down de hill,
De buck- wheat cake was in her mouth, de tear was in her eye ;'
Says I " Fm coming from de south— Susanna don't you cry.*'
Oh ! Susanna, &c.
I soon will be in New Orleans and den III look all round.
And when I find Susanna, 111 fall upon de ground ;
But if I do not find her, dis darkey^ll surely die.
And when Fm dead and buried, Sasanna don't you cry.
Oh ! Susanna, &c.
Now we have to match these from old Spain. As we proceed
from Castille southwards, we find a gradual change in the character
of the songs — those of the north are grave and chivalric — those of
the south are light and amorous. As the blood becomes rarefied,
the judgment seems to have less control over the voice in the
seasons of exhilaration, and the verses sung bear more of the
impulse of uncontrollable animal spirits, — first the unity of idea
in the song is lost — the stanzas do not form any natural sequence—
any order may be adapted as well as any other. A favourite
southern song is this : —
To te amo mas que mi padre
To te amo mas que mi madre
T si no fiiera peocado
Mas que la Yirgen del Cacmen.
Las feminas y las gatas
Son una misma familia
Que en hadendole caridas
A la mejor nos aranao.
Debaxo de tu camita
Hay unos zapatos bhincos
"So son mios, no son tuyos
? De quien son estos zapatos 7
No tocaran campanas
Quardo yo ma muera
Que la muerta de un infeliz
Muy poco suena.
I love thee more than my father
I love thee mcve than my mother
And if it were not a sin
More than the Yizji^ del Carmen.
Women and cabs
Are of the same family
For in caressing them
They wUl scratch when they can.
Under the bed
Are a pair of white shoes
They are not mine— nor thine
Whose are those shoes.
Ko bells shaU be tolled
When I die
For the death of one so unhappy
Makes but little nqise.
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There is more oonsistenoy in this than in most It may be
placed at one end of the scale, — ^the songs increase in incoherency
until at last tbey become absolute nonsense. At the more absurd
end of the scale we may place the following : —
En la calle— no se donde In the street I don't know where
MataroD yo no se h, quien They have killed I doa't know whom
El vivo cayo en el saelo The living man fell down in the mud
T el maerto volvio a comer. And the dead man ran away.
Bant Antonio Saint Antonio !
Las tentaciones del demonic The temptations of the evil one
Que quiere esta mujer. What does that woman want
En la yglesia nose donde In the church I don't know where
Celebran no se quel santo They celebrate I know not what saint
Y se gana no se quanto And they gain I can't say how much
Bn pregando no se que. In praying for I can't say what
Bant Antonio Saint Antonio 1
Las tentaciones del demonic The temptations of the evil one
Que quiere esta mujer. What does that woman want.
This song is sung all over southern Spain, and all over the
Spanish colonies. There is scarcely a line of it which is not pro-
verbial in Buenos Ayres, in Mexico, Pei*u, Chili, Manilla, and
wherever the Spanish language is spoken — it is the type of a class
of songs which are scarcely known anywhere but in Spain and her
colonies. They are " Cosas de Espana."
This is a curious and as yet an unnoticed connection, but it is
one which is far from being destitute of philosophical as well as of
philological importance.
We have little to say as to the fourth kind of wit — that of the
back-woods, and western prairies and mountains. The trapper^
the hunter, the borderer, have all their wild peculiarities of life,
and these are of course reflected in their language and in their
mode of using it. Space will not permit us to enlarge on this
branch of our subject, and we should scarcely find originality
enough to repay the trouble of analysis.
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^tipp)x0t»X S^tU^m.
HAWKSHBAB TOWN, OHUROH, AND SCHOOL*
Bk a, Craiff Oi^ih Btq,^ F£.A.
The English Lakes are comm(mly spoken of as of Cumberland or
Westmorland ; and comparatively few amongst the crowds that
flock thither eiwy season make themselves aware of the faet that
a considerable portion of what is popularly called the Lake District
— ^a portion, too, containing every variety of scenery that may be
imagined as rangiag betweea the most savage and sterile graadeaiir
and the sofkest and most luxuriant beauty — liefi within the bouD-
daries of Lancashire, the county whose name, perhaps bey<Hid any
other, suggests ideas widely apart from anything associated in our
thoughts with the worship of the sublime and beautiful in natur&
The queen of our lakes, Windermere, is bounded on two-thirds
of its circumference by a Lancashire shore. The smaller lake of
Esthwaite, whose chief attractions are the irre<rularity of outline,
formed by its green peninsular hillocks and its general air of placid
beauty and repose, is entirely in Lancashire. Entirely in Lanca-
shire, too, is Coniston Water, around the head of whidi are
concentrated and combined, as I devoutly believe, more of the true
elements of natural beauty than may be found within the same
limited bounds in any other part of the world.
Lancashire also possesses numerous small sheets of water, vary-
ing from a mile to a hundred yards in length, and called '^ tams.^
The situations of all these are romantic and wild — ^in some instances
almost inaccessible. Such are the lakes contained in that part of
the Hundred of Lonsdale, distinguished as " North of the Sand^"
separated from the rest of the country by the great Bay of More^
cambe, and generally reckoned part of the lake country. It
* Reprinted from the " Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire
and Cheshire," before whose members it was read March 2Dd, 1865. It is
here reproduced by the eonaent <^ the kvAhox and of the Council of the
Society.
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aonsistd of th« Lordship of iSirness and the Parish of OartmeL
Fumess has be^n described as an island, and called so by one of
its old Abbots, from being surrounded, with the exception of a few
yards at the water-shed, on the pass where the three counties meet,
by river, lake, and sea. It is divided into High and Low Fumess,
or Fumess Fells and Fumess Plain ; and it is the mountainous
part of Fumess, rich in topographic and scenic, and not deficient
in historic interest^ that I propose to bring under the notice of this
Society, in a short series of papers ; and, taking its metropolis,
humble as it is, as properiy first, I shall devote this to the descrip-
tion and history of the town of Hawkshead.
Headers of Wordsworth will remember that in his principal
poem. The Excursion^ he relates that he first knew the pedler-hero
of his narrative —
'' In a little town obscure,
A maikst-village, seated in a tract
Of mountains, where my school-day time was passed.
The '' little town obscure" was Hawkshead, which at the period
of WordsworUi's youth was famous for its Grammar School
Besides the late poet-laureate, another bard, one of a very differ-
ent stamp, has honoured Hawkshead with his notice. Richard
Braithwaite, author of that eccentric and witty doggerel, Drunken
Bamabj/a Journal^ names it as one of the resting-places in his
"Itinerary," thus — ^
Donee Hamxide speeto sensem ;
Illioe sedem Lane(utren»em,
In the English rersion —
Thence to Hauxid^i marish pasture ;
Thence to tV seat of old Lancaster,
On this meagre passage one of Braithwaite's annotators remarks
— " Hauzidr. — This place, as well as a few others, are only named
"to say 'farewell,' as though Bamaby made no long tarrying
" therein. For these partial omissions it is difficult to assign a reason,
" unless it may be conjectured that it is not attributable to dearth
^ of incident^ but that Braithwaite knew himself to be too inti-
^wwtelrf known in the nd[ghbo«g^ood of particular towns to
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^ remain, if they were described, long undisooyered as author of
" the poem." This is exceedingly probable ; — Braithwaite, having
relations resident at Hawkshead, and his family seat at no great
distance, would be known there as a country gentleman of dignity
and state, and could not wish to be identified with such a disrepu-
table vagabond as he has left us in his ^* Drunken Bamaby."
Amongst his Remains afier DecUh the following occurs : —
Vpan the late Decease of my muchrlamentedJHend and kitumanj
A lien Dickinson, a ualous and indtutriotu member of Church
and Commonweal.
Hawdde laments thy death ; Orassmyre not so,
Wishing thou had'st been dead ten years agoe,
For then her market had not been so done.
Bat bad suruiu'd thy age in time to come ;
And well may Haaxide grieue at thy departure,
Since she received from thee her ancient charter.
Except in the words of these two dissimilar bards and of some
merely local writers, Hawkshead, so far as I am aware, has no
other place in literature. Its place in history I shall notice here-
after. Meanwhile T may attempt a description of it as seen m
our own time.
It is one of the smallest market towns in the kingdom, consisting
of about eighty houses and about four hundred inhabitant& Its
appearance is pretty accurately described by '^ A Gentleman,'' who
made and published A Tour/rom London to the Lakes in 1791 : —
'< A small market town, where the houses seem as if they had been
<< dancing a country dance, but, being all out^ had stood still where
" the dance ended.'' That it is little altered in seventy years may
be inferred from the following quatrain by a resident rhymer, not
much known, describing its present appearance :
A quaint old town is Hawkshead and an ancient look it bears.
Its church, its school, its dwelliugs, its streets, its lanes and squares
Are all irregularities— all angles, twists and crooks.
With penthouses and gabies over archways, wents and nooks.
Its squares are two, one of which may be called a square with
all propriety. The other would defy a more able mathematician
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fban 1 to define its figure. Of streets, accurately speaking, it
possesses one, of yarying contour, and width frequently and awk-
wardly encroached upon by gabled shops standing out at right
angles to the roadway and houses, by aggressive comers, and by
low upper stories projected far beyond the foundation line of the
buildings. For the paucity of streets in EEawkshead, however, we
are more than compensated by the number of its lanes, entries,
wents, passages, and '' nooks." The most important of these is
called Orandy nook — that is, Orandmothei^s comer — ^the way
through which, though it affords the only access to the parsonage
and some other residences, has long offered a puzzle to the drivers
of even single-horsed vehicles. Altogether it ia not easy to imagine
a town laid out in a more eccentric manner, or the same number
of houses shaken or huddled together with less regard to order,
arrangement^ or convenience ; nor is it possible to conceive any-
thing more angularly irregular than its ground-plan, or more rudely
picturesque than the outlines of its walls, chimneys, and roo&.
The situation of Hawkshead is singularly pleasant and cheerfuL
It lies at a short distance from the head of Esthwaite lake, on the
north-western side of a fine valley, open to the north-east and Houth-
west, and bounded on the western side by a long range of elevated
moorlands, which separate it from the vales of Coniston, Grizedale,
and Dalepark ; and on the east by a shorter extent of similar
heights, dividing it from a part of Windermere.
The town has immediately on its western side a curious but very
beautiful accumulation of glacier-formed hummocks (moraines),
locally called " Hows.'' Equally immediately to the east it has
the broad green meadows which form part of the fioor of Esthwaite
vale, and, becomiDg marshy near the lake, justify Drunken Bamaby
in calling them Hawkshead's '' marish pasture.''
Notwithstanding its lack of shelter, or perhaps in consequence
of the free sweep of the winds preventing the stagnation of vapours,
miasmatic or otherwise, Hawkshead is remarkably salubrious, the
death-rate of the whole parish being under one per cent, per
annum, or considerably less than one half the average rate of the
whole kingdom.*
* It has, however, of late years been visited with a low fever of a mild
type^ oocasioned, as is supposed, by the frequent inundation of the meadows.
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IdstanoeB of longevity are not unfi^uent, for oot^genftTimui
have been numerous, and uonogenarians not singular there. Of
what the ratio of increase might be, were it not for emigration and
oth^ reducing causes, we may judge by the o^ae q£ Prudeno^
l^icholson, an old lady of eighty-two, who boasts 9, Uying pnigeny
equal in numbers to the years of her life ; and tlie Q9sp of a^Qth^
hasibeen quoted, whose descendants at ber death n\i|nbered 119.
ItH name is stated by Mr. Feiguson to be derived from Q^iwkr, ^
Scandinavian proper name ; while the late Dr. Whitaker, Yipair
of Blackburn, who had a residence her^, told me Ijbat it, ^ well a^
the local £EimiLy name of Hawkrigg, ipust bet^r some reference to
falconry, Like more of the reverend doctor^s local etymologieSi
this derivation can hardly be accepted. I incline to iAie opii^on
that Mr. Forguson may be right. It is very possible that sqm^
old Norse sei^tler named Hawkr, or Auk, once possessed a hide of
land there, and so left his name to the spot.
Hawkshead may fairly lay clai^i to a very respectable antiquity.
There is reason to believe that it was a community and a chapelry
at a date considerably anterior to the Norman Conquest In the
earliest annals of Fumess Abbey we find it referred to as a place
even then of some standing and importance, as I shall shew when
I treat of its ecclesiastical and manorial affairs.
Perhaps the most interesting circumstance in the history q£
Hawkshead is that it was one of the stations selected for the mus-
tering of recruits in that futile lising of 40,000 men called ** The
Pilgrimage of Grace,'' in 1537, which, as may be remembered, was
instigated chiefly by the heads of the large religious houses after
the smaller communities had been suppressed. Hobert Asl^e, a
gentleman of East Yorkshire, was the military chief of this
insurrection; and his proclamation addressed to the people of
Hawkshead ran as follows : —
To the Gommyns of Hawkside Parish, bailiffs, or Constables, with all the
Haniletts of the same.
Wei beloved, we greet you well ; apd whereas our brother Poverty and
oar brother Roger goith forward, is openly for the side and assistance of
yoar faith and holy Church, and for the reforiDation of such abheys and
monasteries, now dissolved and suppressed without any just cause.
Wherefore, gudde bretbers, forasmuch as our sayd bredeiyn hath sent to
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I
118 for «id0 aai bclpe, vf do noii only effeetiially dnira yon, but also
under the paine of deadly sinne we comtpaode you f^ad every of you to
be at the stoke green beside Hawkside Kirke, the Saturday next, being
the xxviii day of Ootober by xi of the clock in your be9t array ; as you
shall make answer before the heigh judge at the Dreadfull Day of Dome ;
and in the payne of pulling downe your houses, and leasing of your gudds,
nod ygnr bodies to be at the Capteyn's will : for at the place aforesaid,
yee and wee shall tak^ further directions coAcernipg our faith, so farre
decayed, and for gudde and laudable customes of the country and such
naughty inventions and strange articles now accepted and admitted, so
that our said brother be subdued, they are lyke to go furtherwards to
utter undomg ot the Oomynwealth.
"Our brother Poverty," named iu this not very intelligiblo
document, was a fisherman of Hawkshead, probably the leader of
\t» contingent, who seired as one of Aske's captains under the self-
conferred title of the Earl of Poverty. " Our brother Roger "
:was moat probably Roger Pole, the last Abbot of Fumess, who
afterwards succeeded, by a somewhat abject submission, in making
terms with the government, and so escaped the terrible fate of his
neighbour abbots of Whalley and Salley, accepting the rectory of
Daltou as compensation for the loss of his abbey. It is therefore
probable his share in The Pilgrimage of Qrace was condoned or
overlooked by the authorities.
This is the only instance on record wherein Hawkshead has been
honoured by having its name made prominent in a matter of
rational importance. Of its internal and domestic anvil's we gain
some curious glimpses from its Parish Register, in which, from its
commencement in 156.8 to the ^iid of the next century, the clergy-
men seem to have recorded everything that occurred in the pariah
ihat was at all remarkable or uncommon. I give a few of these
entries as being interesting, if na^a^e, sketched ^of the state of
society in a little secluded community two hundred years ago.
The iirst has a oousiderably earlier dat^k
1577, November. — In this month began the pestilent sickness
in this p-ishe, which was brought in by one Geoi^e Barwieke,
whereof is deceased — those y* ar.e thus markt.* [The number
of burials so marked is thirty-eight, the same mark being pre-
fixed to this enjry.j *4?xthpny .fiij^n bi^ifi^ in Langdale last
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day of September and taken up again and brought to Hawks-
head the XI day of January.
This is worthy of notice as a singular violation of a rule, if not
a law, that forbade the disinterment of one who had died of plague,
which, as the asterisk indicates, has been this man's &ite.
Another entiy fixes the age of the Friends' burial ground, which
still exists at a short distance from the town.
1658 ffeb XI.— To day, one Agnes the wife of Edward Bigge
de Hye Wray a Quaker which was buryet at Coulthouse in
Oeorge Braithwaite's parke (?) the same being an intended bury-
ing place for that sect and she the first corps which was layde
therein.
The next is somewhat ghastly in its details.
1664 April ye i^ — That there was a man drownd in Thirston
water* which was found casten upp att the Waterhead neare
the yeate on the high waye who had layde so long in thesayde water
until the haire was comd of his head, and his face was so eaten
and dLifigured wibh fyshes, he beinge a stranger and not known
by any was brought here to Hawkshead Church by a hoi'se on
a carr and buryed in his close in the church yard at the north
syde of the schoole the day and year first mentioned and ex-
pressed.
In a former paper I called attention to the fact that serfdom
was abolished in the north of England by the monks of Fumess
and other similar foundations at a very early period. A memor-
andum written at the beginning of the Hawkshead register would
seem, however, to show that traces of that old institution remained
to a much later date than is generally supposed, inasmuch as a
domcHtic servant seems to have had a troublesome form to observe
ere she was allowed to leave her servitude, at a period so late as
the middle of the 17 th century.
M"^— That the 13th day of June 1664 James ffisher of Amble-
syde yeoman came to me with a certificate under the hands of
Thomas Braithwaite of Hawkshead field and Richard Knipe of
Coniston Constable and Bayliff, Patrick Parker and George
Kirkby of Coniston aforesaide which declared unto me that
* The andent name of Coniston lake.
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Jane Nicholson late servant to William Sawrej of Coniflton
Waterhead hadd the free oonsente of her saide master to depart
out of his sendee dp soe left.
OHRISTOPH. EDMONDSON,
Paste' Eoae
Jane 27 1664.
Mj next extract, which has already appeared in the newspapers^
goes to prove that our ancestors had much more practical notions
of making capital punishment a deterrent example than we can
boast in our day.
1672 Aprill 8 — Thomas Lancaster who for pojsonninge his
own fiimily was Adjudgt att the Assizes at Lancaster to be car-
ried back to his owne house at Hye Wray where he lived and
was there hanged before his owne doore till he was dead for that
very fact, dp then was brought with a horse and carr on to the
Coulthouse meadows and forth withe hunge oopp in Iron Chaynes
on a Gibbett which was sett for that very purpose on the south
syde of Sawrey Gassy neare unto the Pool Stang and there con-
tinued until such times as he rotted away bone for bone.
I may mention that the scene of this exhibition still bears the
ill-omened name of " The Gibbet Moss."
The following is a tolerably graphic account of the damage done
by a flood : —
Bee it remembered that upon the Tenth day of June att night
in the yeare of our Lord God one thousand six hundred eightye
and sixe ; there was such a fearfuU Thunder with fyre and rayne
which occasioned such a terrible flood as the like of it was never
scene in these parts by noe man liveinge ; for it did throwe downe
some houses and mills and took away several briggs and the
water did run through houses and did much hurte to houses ;
besydes the water washt away great trees by the rootes and the
becks and gills carried them with other great trees, stocks and
stones a greater way of and layd them on mens ground j yea
further the water did so fiercely run downe the hye-ways and
made such deep holes and ditches in them that att several places
neither horse nor foote could passe ; and besydes the becks and
rivers did soe.breake out of their wayes as they .brought exceed-
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ingt great ntndbeds into men's groand at many places whieli did
great harte as never the like was known, I pray Ood of liis
great mercy gi'ante that none which is now living may ever see
the like again.
The next relates a somewhat unpleasant casualty ; but the
richly quaint and matter of fact style in which the narrative
U 4X)nyeyed| giv^ it an irresistible claim to beiog copied and
jirfiferved.
1^89 December 16-r-Bem4r4e Swaineson, who was Sdwaid
Bi*aithwaite's Apprentice went with William Stamper a greate
while within nighte into William Braithwaite's shopp in Hfiwks-
l^etid for to beare him company a little ; and at their qi^tinge
the^e ^bree youj^ge youths were all very sober and in gopd health :
an^ Abo^t Twelve o' the olocke o' the nighte they made a bett;
that if this Bernard Swaineson could driiike of nyue npggins of
brandy ; then WiUit^m Braith^aite and William Stamper yraa
to pay for tl^m ; but if Bernard &yled and could i^ot drink of
nine nogg^fui of brandye then he was tP pay of hi^ own charge
for th^t he hafi draoke; now this Bei^n^^ draqke (>f t^^ese
noggins of brandy quickly ; and shortly after tbat fell downe
upon the floore, and was straightw^e carried to his bed where
he l^de four and Twenty hours ; durioge whidi t^me hfi collide
never speake noe nor never did knowe any body though m^ny
came to ^ee him and so he dy^.
Sometimes it has been thought necessary to record the manner
qf death as well as the sepulture, as my two last excerpts will shew.
1691 May 15. — Clement Askew who was cutting 4own« a
tree at Coniston Waterhe^d & slayne by the &11 of it.
1697 Sept 16 : James Braithwaite late of Crofthead did goe
to the water-foote fpr a boate load of lyme-stone with William
Braithwaite of Cunsie ; and as he was pominge back Agayne
wa^ drowned in Windermere wa^* ; ^d three men that were
with him by God's great mercy gott all out of the water and
saved their lives ; the boa^ which they were in l^ing laden with
lym stones was lost and did sink to tj^e bottpm of the sayde
water ; wd he was buryed the day pf the moot^ ia^t pe^i^t^i^
'^ith these fpecim^s pf th|d ^'shprt jknd ,c%£Jie ^i^nals" of
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Haiirksbead two hundred years ago I jxmy oloee my extracts fiom
the documeat&ry history of the. place; and, with regard to the town,
I have only to add that James I. granted letters patent to Adam
Sandys, of Graythwaite, to establish a weekly market and certain
fairs there. The quotation given already from Braithwaite's
remains gives the credit of obtaining this charter to his kinsman,
Allen Nicholson, who might be in some minor degree instrumental
in securing these privileges to Hawkshead ;* but the original
document so granting them to their ancestors, is still, I believe,
preserved by the Sandys family at Graythwaite HalL
So long as the Bale's people continued to spin their wool at
home, these markets were of some importancei The women chiefly
brought the yam thither every Monday to sell to the manufacturers
from Kendal and elsewhere, who attended for the purpose. That
it was also a market for other varieties of produce, a curious proof
came to light a few months ago. In clearing out the rubbish that
had accumulated during many years in a building near the church,
formerly used to shelter the parish hearse, two small but heavy
and substantial vessels of bronze or bell metal were found. These
were pronounced by some respectable authorities to be ancient
sacramental vessels ; but I agree in the opinion of certain others
who hold t^em to be the standard quart and pint by which the
measures used of old in the market had to be regulated. This is
borne out by the capacities of the vessels, and the impress of a
crown and the letters W.R, which also serve to fix their date.
The large square of Hawkshead was formerly lined with open
verandahs, or penthouses, to protect the market people from the
rain, which falls both frequently and heavily there, and some of
these remained until long after the market became little more than
a name. The erection by subscription of a market house and town
hall, rendered these rude shelters unncessary, even if the general
adoption of spinning machinery had not, by causing the wool to be
sold at home in the fleece, stopped the supply of the staple mer-
chandise. A bequest by a benevolent lady provided a service in
the church on the Monday forenoons, for the special benefit of the
* Or, as the quotation savs, *' Ancient Charter," it may refer to the restora-
tion Qi some old privileges lost by disuse.
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people coming to marketi vhich, like the penthoiues, vas also
maintained long after those for whose behoof it was providedi
oeased to avail themselyes of it |
(To b$ concluded in our next,)
§»ttt^.
STONE COLD! STONE OOLDI
By Mise Theo, Kennedy.
Ever thus is memory sighing,
Where my boyhood's love is lying,
I, the while, these words defying,
Stone cold ! Stone cold !
Sware I not that time should never
From my heart her image sever 1
Still the sad voice murmurs ever,
Stone cold 1 Stone cold 1
Whilst defying, Faith is fleeting,
Doubt within me wildly beating.
And I hear myself repeating.
Stone cold 1 Stone cold 1
But I say, My love is sleeping.
Strive to wake her with my weeping,
Truth into my heart still creeping
Stone cold ! Stone cold 1
Then I fling fresh vows upon her ;
Cry aloud the words that won her ;
Echo answers only " honour,"
Stone oold 1 Stone cold I
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Now I raise the fisuled treeees ;
Warm the lipa with past careaseB ;
But the touch despair impresses,
Stone cold 1 Stone cold !
Hide the pale dead face with flowers.
Cull them sweet from bygone hours,
Black oonnction o'er me lowers,
Stone cold ! Stone cold I
%1xt (&i\W$ ^1^%,'€ut.
Yegetatiok and the Bible.* — The interesting pamphlet before
us, we believe to be the first attempt to reconcile the Mosaic
account of Creation with spontaneous generation. The author
takes for his text the 1st chapter of Genesis, and the 1 Ith verse —
^ And God said, Let the eaiih bring forth grass, the herb yielding
seed," ko. ; and he argues from this — '' That God imparted to the
earth a power to produce the various classes of vegetable life ; but
that this power depends upon certain laws and conditions, so as to
produce like plants and herbs, etc., under like circumstaucea" In
support of this, the author quotes several instances of plants spring-
ing up in isolated patches and &r from any vegetation of a similar
character. Facts of this kind have long been recognized by men
of science, and we are glad to see they are now being accepted by
theologians. After the Great Fire of London, in 1666, the entire
surface of the ground acted upon by the fire, was covered by such
a vast profusion of a cruciferous plant (Sisymhriv/m, iris) that it
was calculated the whole of the rest of Europe could not contain so
many plants of it, and when the marshes of Zealand were drained,
the Carex cyperoideSf not a Banish plant at all, sprang up in great
* Vegetation and the Bible : A Link in the Chain of Agreement between
Science and Revelation. By Thomas Hartley, M.A, Incambent Curate of
Raskelfe.— London: William Madntosfa.
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abuDdanoe. The same law o^flpofltaiiMnii gmmii is also claimed
in the work before ua for the whole animal kingdom with the
exception of man. Of his origin, the writer sajs^^'^ The formation
of man is so distinctlj special in the Bible record, as to place him
above the action of a power, which was not communicated to the
earth in reference to him." The pamphlet, eminently suggestive,
is evidently the work of a thoughtful mind, and, as such, we cordi-
ally recommend it to the intelligent readers of our magazine
HisTORT o*" tHfi Parish Church op TJlverston.* — The proceeds
derived from the sale of this complete little brochure on our Parish
Church, are to be devoted to the " Restoration Fund'' — so says the
preface — and we may therefore confidently expect for it a large
sale, which it well deserves. Commeftcing with the first authentic
account of the church, about the year 1200, the author traces its
history down to the present time, describing all its Norman,
Mediaeval, and Churchwardenic arehitectvral details, with the hand
of a connoisseur. As a matter of course, considerable ppace is
devoted to a description of the present restoration, and all the pro-
ceedings connected therewith, winding up with an abstract of the
sermons and speeches delivered at the re-consecration. The
pamphlet fonns a very pleasing and interesting memorial of a great
work carried out to a successful issue through the indefatigable
labours of the Rev. Canon Gwillym, to whom the history is dedi-
cated We trust soon to hear of its being "out of print."
A Tourist's Guide to Furness Abbey, t — In these days of cheap
and rapid travelling, concise and judiciously selected guide books
have become an almost daily want. We therefore hail with
pleasure the appearance of the second edition of this interesting
hand-book to the ancient Abbey of St. Mary. Beautifully printed
on toned paper, and with a number of additional woodcuts, it pre-
sents as cheap a shilling's worth as ever issued from a provincial
press. Of the literary merit of the work we need not speak — the
♦A History of the Parish Church of Ulverston ; with a description of the
ptesent edifice, and an aMMiount of the ceremony of re-consecratioii on Wedaes-
&7, theaist October, 18^<-Ulverstoa : WiUiam Kitchm.
t A Tourist's Guide to Furacss Abbey and its Yiciiiiily. by Henry Barber ;
with illustrations, tnouad plan of Funieas Abbey, and a m»p of the Lak^
Pistiict. Second emtion.— Ulverston.: i).
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aame of the Mithor ia m svffieiaat goMnnta* that every eaie hai
been taken to render the prodnctioii a moit interesting and reliaU#
goide, and as sudi we commend it to our reader*.
€mt0pU«tiitt
To the Editor oj the North Lonsdale Magazine,
Sir, — WiXl yon allow me to supply the foUowiug to the unoov*
rected copies of your December Number 1
Page 232y line 26 from top^ ibr supposed trap-rock read supposed
igneous rock.
The uncertainty which is attached to the origin of these rocks,
has arisen out of the new doctrine, that some granites and syenites,
as well as trap rocks, are only highly metamorphosed sedimentary
strata. See notice of Prc^esaor Youle Hind's '^ Preliminary Keport
on the Geology of New Brunswick," Presidential Address^ Quart,
JourrL GeoL Sac. Lond,^ Vol, XXII ^ 1866, and ^^Metamorphic
Origin of Certain Granitoid Hocks and Granites in the Southern
Uplands of Scotland ;" by James Geikie, Esq., Geological Survey
of Great Britain : Geological Magazirie^ Vol III, Dec, 1866.
Yours truly,
E. HoiDQSOV.
CAyran>isH Stbext,
Ulyebstoke^ Dee, lith, 1866.
THE VIPER.
To the Editor of the North Lonsdale Magazine,
Sib, — Whatever may be the results of closer modem observation,
it is a fact that many years ago I read a description of " The
Black Snake" as distinguished from the viper and slow-worm
(called in the district sleah-toorm, as if it were sloe*worm) i and as
being the harmless serpent of England, possessing the peculiarity
and append8|;e mentioned in my last
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I have in my possession a sort of skeleton work on Nataral
History, bat by no means a valuable one, in which the marks of
distinction between the viper as found in England, and the ''cam*
man black anakef*' are pointed out
Of one thing I feel certain, that hlcLck was the impression made
upon my eye by the pair of serpents referred to by me in my for-
mer note ; and that they had not the dubby head peculiar to the
viper.
I would not be positive to anything but my own impressions,
but I would suggest a careful collection of serpents in the district,
and especially iu the winter season, by those who are acquainted
with their usual haunts.
Yours very truly,
T. H. R.
THE CUMBERLAND CUMS.
To the Editor of the North Lonsdale Magaziney
Sib, — ^Will you or any of your competeDt readera, have the
goodness to inform me whether the prefix Cum, occurring in so
many names of places in Cumberland, has anything to do with
Combe ; and whether there is any trace of an ancient orthography
which would warrant the conjecture, that the name of the county
itself may have had its derivation from the prevalence of combes
on the grand scale, which form its principal features, as Comber-
land, (agreeing exactly with the pronunciation of the natives,) or
Combe-mere-land ; or whether we are absolutely concluded to the
opinion that Cu^nbria and Cambria are alike accommodations of
Cvmbria,
Can the fact that combe and camb (the former pronounced
eooantbj) are similarly applied in Cumberland, have any i-elation to
the question ?
I am aware that in the South the depression, and not the elevsr
tion, is styled a Combe, but I think the reverae is the case with
The Combe at Dublin.
Yours, Ac,
CUMBRIAK.
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HAGWORMS.
To the Editor of the North Zotudale Ma^aaine,
Dear Sib, — Perhaps the following may be admissible at your
leisure as a F.S. apropoe of the discussion on serpents.
A correspondent in a recent number of the Ulvereton Advertiser
accounts for the name of hagworm (properly given to the viper
only) in a somewhat inadequate way.
He derives the name of the worm from the Hag^ woods;
whereas the epithet hag^^ as applied to worm and wood, evidently
arose from the hags or witches (Latin, saga,) who used the viper's
blood in their incantations, and naturally resorted to their favourite
haunts, the •* boscage" woods, (locally called scrogs,) for the purpose
of obtaining them. In other parts of England, which I could
name, where the viper is found in low heathery wastes, such wastes
are called Hagt^ moore.
Yours, truly,
T. H. R.
VARIETIES.
*'From grave to gay, from lively to severe."
Lancashibe Witches. — ** This term," says one author, '< arises
from the bewitching charms of the ladies, which surpass those of
other countries ; that it would be dangerous for a young man to
carry his heart into Lancashire, and scarcely possible to carry it
through without a wound." ^Another writer says, "I can assure
the afiiighted adventurer, that the Lancashire ladies are not that
mischievous race of beings they have been represented. He may
safely carry his heart in and through the county, and find the
witches perfectly harmless."
Geobdt in 1820. — ** Mister Heddeter, — Ye tell us many a funny
stoary i' yer Maggazeen, an' many a good laugh I hev hed. Our
aid wife offen sez yer as queer as Dick hatband, et went nineteen
times round an' wodn't knot Dont ye think ye could myak a
adroU stoary about Slaff Dodshun ; he was a queer , as Billy
Oofat sez. Some folks think et thear was nobbit ya Slaff, but ye
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mun mind et thear was a hjaX fktnaly oK ukl Aid Slaff of oV
Slaffsy hed three sons ; an' they wer mebbe ^ greediest famaly i'
CartmelfeL Slaff never mindt ought about religion nobbit efter t'
dinner, an' then he olua sed grace afoar t' men hed hofe done» fcnr
he waa oar greedy et let any body fill ther beUies. — Slaff hed yance
a daughter varra badly, an' they sent for aid doctor Simison ; t'
mother oontrivt et be in when f doctor com. She sent him up-
stairs to f lass; an' when he com down^ he sed, ''yonder's a pig
i' t' roum wi' t' lass." " I thought," sed t' aid woman, " et I was
foarst et be out i' t' fields, an' she wod be dowly be hersel, and soa
I put t' pig to beside her et keep her company.— T* aid wife hersel
deet efter a bit, an' Slaff wodn't give her deaths to any body, and
soa he head em i' t' toppin mow. They wor stown efter a wile,
an' he teak an aid man up for stealing em. When they com to try
him at Lancaster, t' aid man's son went an' sed et he steal em ; an'
his father knew naught about em. ^^ Whaar did ta find em 1 " sed
t' judge. " I' t' topping mow," sed t' lad. " What's topping
mow 1 " sed judge. " Its t' topping mow," sed t* lad. They could
nin on em myak out what a topping mow was, and soa they sent
em o' hyam again. Aid Slaff was varra near crazy ; for he thought a
gitting forty puud, for hanging f aid man, but he wos gradely let in.
— Yan o' Slaff sons gat wedt, and hed a son of his aau. They
thought they would myak a parliament man on im, they sed ; but
he deet Tother two lads leevt togither in an aid house, aud cookt
ther meat thersels ; for they wor far oar greedy et hire a woman.
They ust et clout ther deaths wi' wossat, as lang as they wod hing
on. They lept strea round ther legs for gaiters, and wyar clogs
Sunday aud warday. — Teau ou em gat a wife efter a bit ; but they
sean fell out ; for slie cub some collops off a flick o' bacon, et hed
hung i' t' chimley iver sen ther father began houRekeepiug. An'
Slaff sed et sic extravagance as that wod sean beggar em. Slaff
yance went three times to Bowlan Brigg et git a bad hopeny changt
for a good en ; and mist ef^er o'. — 1 could tell ye a hundred stoaries
sick an' sick like. Bub if ye think they wod du for yer book, ye
may come to our house, an' smoke yer pipe, or tak a bit a dinner,
sick as we hev. We happen may find a sup a betcer drink an we
hed f last time ye wor here. — Ise be varra fidn at tell ye ought
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etie be ev any use for yer book ; and Ise olus be fain et see ye.—
Yonrs, etc., Geobge Hogoat, Cartmelfel, Feb. 1820. — Lonsdale
Afagazine.
Wraysholme Tower —"At a remote period, when all tbe hill"
and vales around us formed one vast forest, and yon beautiful
tract of level ground, by the sand sifle, was overflowed by the sea,
a bold and intrepid knight, named Harrington, fixed his residence
at Wraysholme. He erected the Tower which alone remains to
mark the spot where he passed his days. He constructed the walls
of stones, and cemented them with lime and ox blood, desi^^ning
them to exist till the worM itself should sink in ruins. He was
a man of strange and wayward fancy, as is evident from the shape
of the present structure, being considerably wider at the top than
the bottom. In his days, the wolves in all the sauthern parts of
the kingdom had been destroyed ; but a few still remaining in the
extensive forest of Cartmel. These, it was his amusement to hunt>
in order to exterminate the breed.- — In one of those hunting
excursions, Harrington had been thrown off from his companions*
and had ascended the top of Humphrey Head, if possible to regain
a sight of his fellow sportsmen. He was traversing the rocky
forest on a fleet horse, when his course was stopped by the shrieks
of a female in extreme peril Harrington with that gallantry
which distinguishes generous minds, sprung to her assistance.
A lovely and youthful female was with difliculty maintaining her
position in a cleft of the rock, while an enormous wolf was endea-
vouring to reach her. His barking was tremendous, and death
lightened from his eyes. The knight, with that steadiness, which
an active arm acquires from constant exercise, transfixed the
animal with his lance, before it observed that an assailant was so
near. He then dismounted from his horse, and assisted the lady
from her precarious asylum. To describe her gratitude would be
a fruitless task. It was such an expression of joyous feeling as a
generous heart gives bii-th to — it was the thankful acknowledgment
of a lovely maiden to the valorous preserver of her life. — The
knight of Wiuysholme was in the vigorous bloom of manhood.
He was esteemed for his gallant and hospitable temper — he was
applauded for his enthusiasm in the chase — he was honoured for
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hiB heroic deeds in the battle field — and he was admired for the
eloquence of his tongue, the gracefulness of his person, and the
kiudness of his natura Can it be then a matter of surprise, if
the young lady felt more than mere gratitude for the preserver of
her lifel or can we be astonished if she felt a* wish to secure the
protection of him who had proved himself so able to afford it —
Harrington beheld in his admiring prot^g^ all that his heart sighed
for. He saw that she loved him, and that of itself was equivalent
to a thousand charms. No long or tedious courtship was requisite
to complete a union which had so strangely begun ; and which,
according to the opinion of the times, had already received the
sanction of heaven. Their vows were exchanged at the adjoining
chapel. Happiness was the result of this propitious marriage, and
a numerous offspring added yet stronger links to the golden chain
which bound them. — This wolf, says tradition, was the last ever
seen in England ; on which account the knight assumed it as his
crest. And the happy pair, after a long life of uninterrupted
felicity, were buried in a niche in Cartmel church. Their effigies
were cut in stone, with a figure of the wolf at their feet. A few
Runic knots, to mark the Celtic descent of the knight, were carved
on the wall ; and without a word of inscription, their monument
remains to puzzle the fertile brains of modem antiquarians." —
Lonsdale Magctzine^
Legend of Cartmel Church. — ''Better than six hundred years
since, some monks came over from another country ; and finding
all this part of the kingdom covered with wood, resolved to build
a monastery in some part of the forest. In their rambles, they
found a ^hill, which commanded a prospect so beautiful, and so
extensive, that they were qtiite charmed with it They marked
out a piece of ground on the summit of the hill, and were preparing
to build the church, when a voice spoke to them out of the air,
saying, " Not there, htit in a valley hettoeen two rivers, where the one
inins north and the other souths Astonished at this strange com-
mand, they marvelled where the valley could be ; for they had
never seen a valley where two rivers ran in contrary directiona
They set out to seek this singular valley, and travelled through all
the north of England, but in vain. — ^ Wearied with their fruitless
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searchy they were returning to the hill where they heard the strange
voice. In their way back, they had to cross the valley, at that
time entirely covered with wood. They came at length to a small
river, the stream of which ran north. They waded through it ;
and, in about one hundred yards they found another, the stream of
which ran south. They measured the distance between the rivers,
and placed the church in the middle, upon a litble island of hard
ground, in the midst of a morass. The church they dedicated to
St Mary. They also built a small chapel on the hill, whet*e they
had heard the voice, which they dedicated to St. Bernard. The
chapel is long since destroyed, but the hill is called Mount Bernard
to this dAyJ'— Ibid
WAIFS AND STRAYS.
"When found, make a note of." — Captain Cuttle.
In the south west of Cumberland, is a village bearing the name
of Kirksancton. This word is of ancient origin, being called, in
Domesday, Santacherche, or holy church ; but, in later times, it
appears the word has been reversed and improved. There seems
to be a natural wish in all men to ascertain the etymology of
names : but as no source ot real information presented itself the
inhabitants of Kirksancton have had recourse to fiction to supply
the deficiency. A Kirk or church, say they, once stood here, which
sunk ; ix.A the village was ever after called Kirk-sank-town — now
abbreviated into Kirksancton ! — LonsdcUe Magazine.
In former times, before there was either a church or a burial
ground at Coniston, the dead were regularly conveyed on sledges
to Ulverston Church for interment On one occasion it happened
that the corpse of a person named Jenkins, from the neighbour-
hood of Tilberthwaite, was thus travelling on one of those ancient
hearses to his long homa It happened, however, that in crossing
a small brook a quarter of a mile from the place where Coniston
church now stands, that the coffinless body slipped from the sledge.
It was some time before the disconsolate widow and the other
mourners observed the absence of the principal personage ; he was
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however found in tlie stream, and without any further attempt to
escape, was safely conducted to XTlverston. Hence the brook bears
the name of Jenkin-sike* to this day. — Ibid.
Soon after James II. abdicated the throne, in 1688, a report was
spread that he lay off the Yorkshire coast, ready to ma^ke a descent
with a numei'ous French army, hoping to regain his departed
soTreignty. The Lord Lieutenant of Westmorland upon this
ordered out the Posse Comitatus, comprising all able-bodied men
from sixteen to sixty. The order was obeyed with alacrity, and the
inhabitants met, armed, at Miller's Close, near Kendal, whence
they marched to Kirkby Lonsdale. This historical fact explains
the following popular rhyme, the moaning of which is not, at this
day, generally understood : —
" Eighty-eight was Kirby feight.
When niver a man was slain ;
They yatt their meat, and drank their drink.
And sae kom merrily heame again.**— Zfrtd^.
MONTHLY SUMMARY OF LOCAX EVENTS.
[In consequence of the press of matter for our last number, we
were unable to give a summaiy of events last month. We
therefore supply the deficiency in this number, and give a sum-
mary for the last two months.]
Meterological. — The fall of rain in TJlverston during Oclober,
was 3*09 inches. The heaviest fall in 24 hours occurred on the 29th,
and the amount registered was 76 inches. Rain fell on 15 days.
— ^The rainfall, as registered in Holker Gardens for October, was
2*637 in. The greatest fall in 24 hours occurred on Monday, the
29tb, being '878 in. The number of days that rain fell was 13.
The highest temperature was 71°, and the lowest 31°.
Flood in Bo&rowdale. — On Monday, the 29 bh October, a
heavy fall of rain commenced about four o'clock in the eveninj^
which lasted without intermission till between ten and eleven
* Sike is a common term for a small rivulet in ail parts of the north.
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o'dodc the foUowiag morniiig. The raimfikU meMiired at tern
o'clock OD TueHday, at Seathwaite^ for the previous 24 hours, was
no less than six inches. The consequence was one of the largest
floods which has been seen in Borrowdale for the last 30 years.
Lowdore Watei-fall was particularly grand, being entirely filled
with foam, presenting a sight but seldom seen to perfection by the
summer tourist.
FuBiriESS lUiLWAT.^^The first sod of the Newhy Bridge branch
wts eut (HI Kovember ]i2th, at Hayerthwaite, by James Kamsdeni
Esq., one of the directors^ On the same day the first shot was
fired towards forming the tunnel tbi*ough the rock near Haverth-
wiite. The contract has been let to Messrs. Auty and Fathers.
The line is to be opened in March, 1868.
XJlverston Lecture Association. — On November 8th, the
first of the course of lectures for the session of the Ulverston
Literary and Scientific Association, was delivered in the Temper-
ance Hall, by the Rev. Hugh Stowell Brown. The subject chosen
was the **Good Old Times," which the lecturer handled with
ability, and during its delivery was frequently applauded. The
chair was occupied by John Fell, Esq., Flan How.
Meterological. — ^The fall of rain in Ulveraton, in November,
was 7*49 in., and the number of days on which rain fell was 20.
The greatest fall in 24 hours occuiTed on Martinmas Thursday, the
15th, and the depth was 2 30 in. On that day and the following,
3*41 in., or about an average month's rainfall, was recorded. —
— The rain-fall, as registered in Holker Gardens, during Novem-
ber, was 8'70t)8 inches. Kain fell on 22 days. The greatest fall
in 24 hours occurred on Thursday, the 15th, and was 187 in.
The temperature was highest on Wednesday, the 7th, being 57%
and lowest on Satm-day, the 17th, being 1^2°.
Ulverston Gymnasium. — The annual meeting of this institu-
tion was held on the 19th ult., under the presidency of Mr. John
Postlethwaite, at the Queen's Arms Inn, when the accounts, which
showed a balance of ^109 98. against the society, were read and
passed. It was* proposed to hold a bazaar early in the year, which
we trust will meet with ail the success it deserves.
Mining Case. — An important mining case (Wakefield v. The
Duke of Buccleuch) was heard during the past month, before
Yioe-Ohancellor Malins. The question at issue was whether the
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Lord of the Manor bad a right to the minerals oh certain lands at
Askham, sold to the plaintiff by the Enclosure Commissioners, with-
out reservatiou. The Attorney-General, Mr. Shapter, and Mr.
t)ruce appeared for the plaiutilfs ; Sir Roundell Palmer, Mr. Baily,
Mr. Glasse, Mr. Hardy, Mr. FreeliDg, and Mr. Field for the
defendants. After careful consideration (so says the report) the
case was dismissed with costs.
Nsw Wbsletan Chapei^ Martok. — On Ohristmas Day the
foundation stone of a Wesleyan Chapel, at Marton, was laid by
John Gunson, £sq , of Sparkbridga The ceremony commenced
with singing a hymn, after which the Eev. K. M Spoor read the
84th Puaim, and oiiered a most appropriate prayer. Mr. Gunson
then proceeded to lay the stone, upon which Mr. Pollitt, on behalf
of the committee, presented him with a beautiful silver trowel,
bearing the following inscription : — *^ Presented to John Gunson,
Esq., on the occasion of his laying the foundation stone of the
Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, at Marton, Dec. 25"
Adoption of the Local Goyesjnment Act fob Daltok. — At a
meeting of the owners of property and ratepayers within the town-
ship or division of ^Dalton-in-Eumess, held on Thuraday, the 27th
ult, it was resolved that the Local Goyeinment Act should be
adopted for such township or division.
NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.
Thb North Lohspale Maqazutb may be obtained of the Agents and Book-
sellers in the cUsirict, but should any subscriber prefer it, or experience any
dilticulty or delay in receiving the wori^ he may ensure punctual delivery
by havmg it posted regularly Irom the olhce.
All communications which do not bear the real name and address of the writer
will not be noticed— this is insisted upon— not so much for publication
unless desired, but as a saiitd'actory guarantee.
We shall be happy to receive information respecting the past history of the
district, old cubtoms, remarkable facts, old local ualiads, epitaphs, or any-
thing bearing upon the plan of our work, whether quaint, amusing^
Bcientitic, or otherwise.
All contributions and articles for insertion should be written upon one side
only ; prmters object to '* copy" wriiten upon both sides ot tne paper.
The editor caunot pledge himself to return rejected manuscripts.
Frinted at the ''Advertiser " Offioe^ The QiU, Ulveretork
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THE
AND LAKE DISTEIOT MISOELLASY.
CONDUCTED BY J. P. MORRIS, F.A.8.L.
No. 8. FEBRUARY, 1867. Vol. I.
HAWKSHEAD TOWN, CHURCH, AND SCHOOL.
By A. Craig Gibson, Esq., F.S,A,
[OOHOLUDBD VBOK OUR LA8T.]
Hawkshead was originally a chapelry under Dalton, and, as
alreadj^ stated, is believed to have existed at a very remote date.
In the earliest annals of Furness Abbey it is referred to as, even
then, a place of some standing and importance Thus between the
years 1198 and 1200, we find that Honorius, Archdeacon of
Richmond, granted the convent permission to celebrate mass at
their private altars with wax candles, during an interdict ; for
which purpose he assigned the Chapelry of Hawkshead, &c., to
the monks.
And again, in 1219, the Abbot wished to relieve the inhabitants
of Furness Fells, then increasing much in numbers, from the
laborious necessity of carrying their dead for interment to the
mother church at Dalton, upwards of twenty miles distant ; but,
Voing strongly opposed by the Vicars of Dalton and Urswick, at
length made an appeal to the Papal court, when the Pope gave a
commission to the Priors of St. Bees, Lancaster, and Cartmel, to
enquire into and adjudge the case, which judgment was in favour
of the Abbot, and ordered the chapel yard at Hawkshead to be
consecrated for sepulture. At the diasolution^ it appears that the
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income of this ohapeliy was nearlj^ three times that of the Rectory
of i>alton — was indeed worth more than the whole of Low Fumess.
It must be noted, however, that the chapelry included what con-
stitutes now the parishes both of Hawkshead and Colton.
Hawkshead was made.paroehial in 1578, by Archbishop Sandys,
a native of the chapelry. The present stipend, £150, Mises £r<»n
glebe lands, a warehouse in Friday Street in the City of London,
and £20 paid by the different quarters or townships, Graythwaite
Hall, and Graythwaite Low Hall, in lieu of small tithes, which
were impropriated at the dissolution of the Abbey.
An interesting relic of the connection of Fumess Abbey with
the spiritual affairs of Hawkshead remains in the old building
adjoining the farm offices of Hawkshead Hall — ^its archway form-
ing the entrance to the farm yard. Of this building Mr. Beck
says — " Every mesne manor would also have its hall and court-
" house, but all have been removed or remodelled by successive
*^ owners till that of Hawkshead alone remains in its original state,
" though now degraded to the offices of a farm house."*
Hawkshead Church is an ancient edifice, without any architec-
tural pretension. It is finely situated upon one of the knolls
already alluded to, close to, or indeed in the town. In accordance
with the rule applied to churches in mountainous districts, it has
a heavy square tower with no spire. The body of the church is a
plain oblong, with windows varying greatly in form and dimen-
sions, the centre of the roof being elevated so as to form a clere-
story. Internally it consists of a nave and two aisles, defined by
rows of massive pillars supporting Saxon arches. Originally the
roof spanned the whole equally, the clerestory being formed in
1633. It is supported by heavy oaken beams, which the Church
accounts 'shew to have cost, at the time they were put up, the very
moderate sum of one shilling each.
The chief object of interest within the church is a large box
tomb of stone, supporting two recumbent figures, male and female,
in high relief, and showing, on a bevelled verge round the top, the
following inscription : —
^Annaies Fumesienses.
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Conditur hoc tumalo Gulielmus Sandys, et Uxor
Cui Margaret ta nomen et omen erat.
Armiger ille fuit perclarus regibus olim
nia sed exemplar religionis erat.
Conjugii fuerant aequali sorte beat!
Faelices opibus, stemmate prole fide,
Pignora divini fuerant haec et magna favoris
Haec tamen Edwini cuncta retundit honos,
Qui doctor rectorque scholae censor quoque presul
Ter fuerat merito Phoebus in orbe sacro
Quos amor et pietas lecto oonjunxit eodem
Hos sub spe vitae continet iste lapis.
At the end is a shield bearing the family ai*ms, with a crescent
of distinction, shewing that Archbishop Sandys, who raised the
fine monument to his parents, was their second (surviving) son.
Also within the church there is a remarkable number of mural
memorial tablets, a few of which are of considerable interest.
The most ancient, also erected by a member of the Sandys family,
bears a very beautiful lament or threnody in Latin : —
Hoc monumentum
Mylo Sandys armiger
Filius natu maximus Samuehs
Sandys de Graythewethia generosus
Ab antiqud. nativitas famili&
Oriundi erexit in memoriam
Pulchrae suae sobolis in ipso vere
Juventse morte oreuntis, viz. Samuelis
Bathshebae, Elizabetae, Catherina, et
Mylonis morti succumbentis^ecimo
Nono die Februarii Ano Domi 1698
MtAiiB SU8B nono.
Threnodia
In mortis victoriam
Mors fera terribili vultu pia corda virorum
Concutit, heu ! nulli parcit avara manus
Falce metit, velut ense ferox bellator in armis
Ilia rapit juvenes, mors rapit ilia senes
Quaque ruit, furibunda ruit, non sanguinis ordo
Nee virtutis honos fata mov/Bre valet.
Nulla queat differe diem medicina statutum
Si mors dura jubet nescit habere ducem.
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A small tablet of white marble, on the opposite wall, is raised
to the memory of Elizabeth Smith, of Ooniston, so celebrated for
her scholastic acquirements ; ** on which," says De Qoincey, '* there
** is the scantiest record that, for a person so eminently accompliah-
"ed, I ever met with. After mentioning her birth and age
" (twenty-nine), it closes thus — * She possessed great talents, exalted
" virtues, and humble piety.' Anything so unsatisfactory or so
'' commonplace, I have rarely known." Again, the same writer
says — " Had it been possible for the world to measure her by her
" powers, rather than by her performances, she would have been
" placed at the head of learned women ; whilst her sweet and
" feminine character would have rescued her from all shadow and ,
" suspicion of that reproach which too often settles upon the
" learned character, when supported by female aspirants." This
is indeed a wonderful meed of praise, coming from such a quarter.
The last that I shall notice is one of the most recent of these
mural tablets^ very handsome and elegant, in memory of the author
of that splendid antiquarian work, Annales Fv/mesienaeSy and
inscribed —
Thomas Alcock Bbck
De Esthwaite Lodge in hac Parochia Armiger
Juxta boreale coemeterii angolum
tumulatns jacet
qui
Antlquitatum indagator si quis alius felicissimus
Annales Fumesienses
summa elegantia composuit
in ipso literarum corsu adhuc occupatos
decessit XXIY die Aprilio anno inc. MDOOOXLYI
Mi. 51.
In the floor of the chancel is a brass plate bearing the following—
Here lies the body of Sir James Ramsay, Bart., late of
Ban£f, in Perthshire, North Britain, who departed this life
the 25th day of March, 1731, in the 83rd year of his age.
How a Scottish baronet so aged has come to die and be buried
at a place so secluded and difficult of access as Hawkshead would
then be, is not easy even to surmisa 1 have communicated with
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Sir George Ramsay, the present representatiye of tliat andent
family, on this subject. He expresses surprise at the information
I gave him, and says that the only clue to the mystery he can
suggest, is that his great grandfather. Sir John Bamsay, eldest son
of this Sir James, being in difficulties, came to reside in England,
and died at or near Kendal in 1738 ; and that, if such residence
b^;an during his fathet^s lifetime, the latter may have made this long
journey to visit him, and so died. I have had the registers search-
ed at Kendal, Windermere, Ambleside, Grasmere, and Hawkshead,
for some trace of Sir John Ramsay, but without success.
The tower of the church contains a peal of six bells, all inscribed
with portions of a rhyme, irregularly distributed, and also with
the names of founders and of donors, and dates. Thus the treble
has —
Awake, arise, the day's lestored,
Awake, arise, to praise the Lord,
Regard, look to, the peal I lead.
17«6.
2nd— We to the first most take good heed.
3rd— The third place I take in the swing.
James Harrisony of Barrow, in LincolneMre, BeU Founder^ 1766.
4th— Pray mind the third when we do ring.
5th— In the fifth place I give my sound.
John, Beneon, Esq,, of Beetham, Westmoreland. Beeast in 1810.
Olory to Ood in the highest.
6th— I dose the peal, ring the bells round.
Memento mori Myles Sandys, Esq., Orayth/waite Hall, 1765.
The great lion of Hawkshead, however, and what used to be its
principal boast, is the Grammar School, which, after languishing
for many years, is, under its present management, being gradually
restored to its bygone glory and usefulness. Tt was founded in
1585 by Edwin Sandys, Ai*chbishop of York, and endowed by him
with house and land of the annual value of £50. In 1717 the
Rev. Thomas Sandys augmented the schooL In 1731 George
Satterthwaite, and in 1766 William Dennison, left certain sums of
money for the maintenance of charity boys. On the 1st of April,
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1588, the Arehbiflhop published his statutes for the management of
the school and for the disposal of the property granted for its
maintenance ; and these continued in force till the year 1832, when
a new scheme was thought desirable. On the 1 2th of May, 1835,
this scheme was approved by the Master in Chancery. Again, in
1862, application was made to the Charity Commifisioners for
England and Wales for power to alter the above named scheme ;
a Commissioner was sent down to take evidence, <fec., &c, and a
fresh scheme was sealed by the Commissioner on the 7th of August,
1863, making provision for an upper and lower school, for six
foundation scholars in the one and eight in the other. All other
children of resident inhabitants in the parish of Hawkshead to be
charged not more than five shillings per quarter (the present
charge being two shillings and sixpence) in the lower school, and
one guinea per quarter in the upper.
The paternal anxiety of the venerable founder for the continued
well-doing of hia school is remarkably evinced in the statutes he
framed for its management and regulation. One or two of those
I shall- give here, as translated in Abingdon's Antiquities of Wor-
cester Cathedral* published in 1717.
Y. Also I ordain and constitute that the sd Schoolmaster of
the said School and his successoura for ever shall have under him
one usher in the^ aforesaid School, to be an usher in the said
School to teaoh such children and Scholars in the said School,
of the lowest forms, as to him shall be appointed by the said
School-master and his Successors And if the afore-.
said Schoolmaster shall fortune to die, then the Usher of the
said School, for the time being, shall teach the said scholars in
the said School, as Master thereof, until there be a Schoolmaster
placed in the said room and office.
IX. Ordains the deposition of the master should he commit
Treason, Murder, or Felony.
XIII. Ordains that the Usher be obedient to the Master ;
and the Scholars shall be of honest and vertuous conversation,
obedient to the master and Usher in all things touching good
* In a biographical notice of Sandys, who was Bishop of Worcester, and
afterwards of London, before he became Archbishop of York.
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Mftnners and Learning both in the Bohool and dsewhere, and
shall continually use the Latin Tongue or Greek Tongue within
the School as they shall be able. Also they shall use no weapons
in the School, as Sword, Dagger, Waster, or other like, to fight
or hvekwl wiUial, nor any unlawful gaming in the School. They
shall not haunt Tayems, Alehouses, or pky at any unktwinl
Games, as Cards, Dice, Tables, or such like, &c., <kc.
XIX. Ordains that one strong and substantial chest, with
three strong locks and keys, of three several fietshions and
makings to the same, be mode iuid placed in some convenient
place in the aforesaid Schoolhouse ; in which chest shall be kept
the Queen's Majest/s Letters patents, containing the Founda-
tion of the said Free Grammar School, and all the Evidences,
Charters, Writings, Rescripts, Muniments, Constitutions and
Ordinances touching, concerning, appertaining and belonging to
the said Grammar School, or to the lands (fee. of the School. —
And that the Schoolmaster and his sueoessours for the time^being
shall have the keeping of one of the said three keys ; and the
two first-named Governours of the foresaid School, for the time
being and their successours to have either ol them one of the
said keys in their custody, so as the chest may not be opened
without the consent of all the said three persons.
The chest thus ordered in still in existence, and from its appear-
ance would seem to have been made immediately after the Arch.-
bishop's ordinance to that effect was issued. It is very rudely
formed of a solid block of oak — ^the cavity dug out of the central
part of the upper surface, and the lid fastened down by three heavy
straps of iron, which are secured by the same number of padlocks,
the keys of which are kept by the master and the two senior
governors, as prescribed. The number of documents, &c., it holds
is about fifty.
The school possesses another curiosity in its antique seal. It
bears a pedagogue in a fiat cap, neck ruff, and long-^gown, seated
in a chair and armed with a rod, hearing thelessmi of a pupil
beside him. Over his head is a scroll bearing the motto, '' Docendo
Discimus ; " over which is a mitare bearing a crescent between two
fltors. To the idght are the archiepiscopal avms, and to the left
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the SondyW fiimily anns. Bound the whole—'' Sigillum libene
Bcholte grammaticsB Edwyni Sandes Eboracensis Archiepiscopi
«« fundatorifl."
A tablet over the entrance of the school records the renovation
of the building hy another native of the parish, of very different
pursuits, he being a citizen and vintner of London. It bears this
intimation—
MemorisB Reverendi D,D. Edwini
fcSandys Ebor. olim Archiepiscopi
Schol» Hcgus Fundatoris
Daniel Rawlinson ciyis Lend.
Gnifldalia cool Lane. Oriundus
posuit
Anno Domini
1675.
The school library contains about 1,080 volumes, and amongst
them, the Archbishop's own folio Bible, of date 1572, thus inscri-
bed — ''Arch. B.P. Sandys' Bible which he used in his own fiunily,
" and of which he was one of the translators. F. CoUins^a EceU-^
** stoat, Hist,, vol ii, 154." (The portions ^of the Bible translated
by Archbishop Sandys were the books of Kings and Chronicles.)
The library also includes a quarto edition of Chaucer of 1561 ;
HqoMs EccleHasUcal PolUy, 1617 ; Faoi^a MtM-tyrSy 1641 ; Pwr-
ehaa his Filgrima, 1625 ; Foole'a ST/nopaiSy 1669 ; and many other
books of standard value and ancient date. It was founded by the
above-named Daniel Rawlinson, who gave several books, and
incited others to follow his example ; and in 1669 gave £100 to
be applied in divers manners to the purposes of the schooL The
Eev. Thomas Sandys and the Rev. William Wilson left certain
sums to be laid out in books ; and in 1789 Thomas Bowman, A.M.,
then master, added considerably to the library, and proposed that
each scholar should pay to it five shillings per annum, and, on
leaving school, present any book or books he might choose. This
was carried out for a time but has fallen into disuse, the only book
known to have been presented to the library since Mr. Bowman's
death, in 1829, being a copy in sheets of Yalpy's Greek Lexicon,
quarto.
The following is a list of the mastera since the foundation of
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the school, with their dates of appointment, as painted on a board
hung up in the library : — Peter MagsoD, A.M., April 10, 1585 ;
Francis Magson, 1616; William Bordley, 1647 ; James Bownes,
1669 ; Myles Sawrey, August 1, 1671 ; John Sadler, August 19,
1672 ; Eobt Myers, August^ 1691 ; Robt. Bulimi, January, 1693;
Jo& Hunter, A.M., January, 1717 ; Strickland Shepherd, A. M.,
April 10, 1726 ; Richard Dixon, A.M., June 3, 1736 ; Ohristo-
pher Hall, A.M., July 26, 1745 ; Lancelot Docker, A.M., 1756 ;
Richard Hewitt, A.M., 1758; James Peake, A.M., St. John's^
Cambridge, 1766 ; Edward Christian, A.M., St John's, Cambridge,
1781 ; W. Taylor, A.M, Emanuel College, Cambridge, 1781 ;
Thos. Bowman, A.M, Trinity College, Cambridge, 1786; Daniel
Bamfield Hickie, LL.D., 1829 ; Haygarth Taylor Baines, A.M.,
Christ's College, Cambridge, 1862; being twenty masters during
the 280 years the school has existed.
§iimx^ ^»»inp.
THE BRAES OP YARROW.
By Sidney Gilpin, Editor of the Songs and Ballads qf Cumberland,
Ten years ago, in my bachelor days, before I was bound in the
iron chains of love, when my thoughts were free as air, and I had
known few sorrows and fewer cares, and when it might almost
have been said —
** My only books were woman's looks.
And folly all they taught me—"
ten years ago I had a long day's ramble in traversing the wild
solitudes at the head of Moffatdale, in Dumfriesshire. On my
way Craigiebum-wood was passed, where lived Jean Lorimer, " the
lassie wi' the lint- white locks " of Burns's song; and as I advanced
up the valley the lonely farm-house of Bodsbeck appeared in view,
which has been rendered &imous by the Ettrick Shepherd's beauti-
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fed tale. Ererybody has seen, or beard at least, of the celebrated
.waterfall, the Grey Mare's Tail. I stood there for some half-
hoar, gaadng upon the impressiye scene before me, witib a mixtupe
.of awe and silent admirs^tion, as its waters tuml^ed ^own the
,dark abyss, a perpendicular height of more than two hundred feet
Climbing .higher among the mountains I reached Loch Skene, a
•wild land gloon^y sheet of water, where '^ the eagles scream from
shore to shore." This was a scene of utter solitariness. No
cheerful haunt of man peeped forth to break the loneliness ; thidk
folds of fog rolled incessantly over the cheerless waste ; nor could
the eye take in anything but savage moorland scenery, bounded by
a heavy, dull, leaden sky. And there among the hills and ^lens
Mre stiil to be seen many of the lurking places of the persecuted
OovMianiers — the echo of whose sufferings " ring through Scotland
to this day."
I left Moffat in the morning with a full determination of enjoy-
ing the next day's stroll among the Braes of Yarrow. Singularly
enough, in this respect, my fate was the same as Wordsworth's
had been half a century before ; for though so near the source of
the Yarrow, I had to turn aside without even catching a glimpse
of a stream so famous in ballad literature — sl stream to which
are linked more strains of undying song than to any other in
Britain.
" Oh ! green,— said I,— are Yarrow's holms.
And sweet is Yarrow flowing !
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock
But we will leave it growing.
O'er hilly path and open strath
We'll wander Scotland thorough ;
But though so near, we will not turn
Into the dale of Yarrow.
Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown 1
It must, or we shall rue it ;
We have a vision of our own
And why should we undo it ?
Should life be dull and spirits low,
*Twill soothe us in our sorrow.
That earth has something yet to show.
The bonny holms of Yarrow."
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This long cherished desire of visiting Yarrow was never fnlfilled
until the autumn of last year. Selkirk is my resting place for one
night. I rise after a sound sleep, and peep fortii into the quiet
streets of that quiet old town. It is just six o'clock, and a regular
wet, soaking morning. The rain does not fall heavily at this
moment, but approaches nearer what is termed a Scotch mist ; and
such is its character that there will be no squeezing yourself
between the drops this morning, however thin and spare your
figure may be ! Seven o'clock, and still " rain — rain — rain — an
ever down pour of rain, that forces upon you visions of Noah and
his ark, and the top of Mount Ararat." This you think is too
much for ** mortal man that liv'st on bread " to bear patiently ;
nay that it is enough to vex the spirit of Job himself ! But I
beseech you, keep a cheerful countenance ; be happy, and bear up
like a man. It cannot last long at this rate ; the thing is im-
possible. And now another hour has passed, and the heavens are
filled with sunshine, and a rainbow spans the green summits of
those two neighbouring hills which you see tossing the clouds from
their rocky crests.
From the swelling heights around Selkirk I looked down for
the first time upon the rich valleys of Ettrick and Yarrow, and
traced in the remote distance, as the mists rolled composedly away,
the silver windings of those two famed streams, until they rush
into each other's arms and become one, about a couple of miles
above Selkirk, and then run " Tweed-blent to the sea." Both
rivers, from their sources, flow free and pure 'mang moors and
mosses, and the greenest meadow lands — past scattered farm-steads,
and cottages, and trees overhanging their clear waters, which add
to their glad aspects the richness of many shadowed beauties.
Leaving Selkirk we soon reach the battle ground of Phillip-
haugh, where Leslie defeated the Marquis of Montrose in 1645 ;
then Carterhaugh presents itself, the scene of the wild and roman-
tic ballad of Ta/rrdane, and in later days of the great foot-ball
match between the men of Yarrow and Ettrick, at which Sir
Walter Scott and the Ettrick Shepherd were present.
We have now reached the Yarrow — the loved, the cheerful
Yarrow — but not to my mind the mournful stream of which the
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olden bards have sung ; and as its banks and braes and leafy groves
are passed, those lines of Wordsworth's fill my thoughts, and blend
with the gentle murmurings of the classic stream, as I uncon-
sciously utter —
« And is this Yarrow l—This the stream
Of which ray fancy cherished,
So faithfully a waking dream ?
An image that hath perished !
that some Minstrel's harp were near, ^
To utter notes of gladness.
And ehase this silence from the air.
That fills my heart with sadness !
How sweet on this autumnal day,
The wild-wood fruits to gather.
And on my true-love's forehead plant
A crest of blooming heather !
And what if I enwreathed my own !
'Twere no offence to reason,
The sober hills thus deck their brows
To meet the wintry season."
Presently Bowhill is reached, one of the Duke of Buccleuch's
principal shooting seats in Scotland. Ask civilly at the lodge for
permission to see Newark Castle, and the old porter will tell 70U
that " No respectable person is refused." Feeling flattered by the
compliment you proceed, and soon find yourself lost among the
rich woodland scenery. But where are the ruins of the old
castle ) Take my advice, and don't allow such a thought to
disturb your mind for one moment ; have faith, and the ruins will
peep out somewhere, by and bye. At the present enjoy to the
utmost the solitude of those fine old forest trees, and the music of
the murmuring Yarrow ; here flowing at its own sweet will ; there
rumbling and tumbling over the huge stones which intercept its
course. But hark ! already the sylvan solitude is broken ; these
old woods ring again with laughter. Whence came those joyous
sounds — ^those sounds which gladdened us more than even the
music of the Yarrow ? Ah, ah ! through yonder open glade,
where the bright simshine streams upon moss-grown trunks now
silvered with age, we see a group of ragged lads and lasses sallying
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forth a uuttiDg, barefoot and barelegged, aa merry as crickets, as
playful as lambs. Soon after we are hemmed in by the hazel and
woodbine uniting with the lower branches of oaks and Scotch
pines — shut out from all the world, with nothing visible but a
dense, impenetrable thicket, and a few rabbits scampering hurried-
ly past our feet ; then by some sudden turn we get a peep into an
adjoining meadow, where the sheep are lying scattered about its
sloping surface, like the small white fleecy clouds on the deep
blue sky overhead. Another turn of the footpath leads to a rug-
ged eminence and gives us a glimpse of a marshy, rushy pool, in
the tall trees near which the heron has for years built her nest
and reared her young. And see ! there stands, solitary by the edge
of the pool, one of these majestic birds ; how graceful her attitude,
how beautiful her plumage. But, hush ! she has already been
disturbed by our footsteps ; we hear the rustling of her wings
among the rushes ; she splashes into the water, and in another
instant is safely out of rifle-shot, soaring stately in the air.
You now cross a wooden bridge, enter a rustic summer-housCi
and behold immediately before your eyes, " the shattered front of
Newark's towers, renowned in Border story." This famous strong-
hold was held by the outlaw Murray and his ancestors for genera-
tions j and here the aged pilgrim of Scotf s '' Lay " seeks shelter
in troublous times, and finds a kindly welcome. But, I pray you,
be seated, and quietly note the peculiar beauties of the scene before
you. How picturesquely the old fortress uplifts its bold front
from the steep eminence overlooking the waters of the Yarrow ;
how its stem grey towers are finely contrasted and softened by
those waving forest trees, which form so rich a fore and so lofty
a background ; and how peacefully that cluster of cottage-homes
nestle under the shadow of the ruined towers ! Saw you ever
Border-keep so perfect in its beauty, so lovely in its entirety, as this
same Newark on which you now gaze ? Well might he who is
" sole king of rocky Cumberland " exclaim —
** Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom,
For sportive youth to stray in ;
For manhood to enjoy his strength ;
And age to wear away in !
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Ton cottage seems a bower of bliss,
A covert for protection
Of tender thoughts that nestle there
The brood of chaste affection."
After Newark had been left a few miles behind, I came suddenly
upon a group " o' randie, gangrel bodies " — ^a gipsy encampment
with its picturesque accompaniments of ragged children, dogs,
donkeys, and camp equipage. The men were lolling lazily about,
smoking short pipes, or sunning themselves on the brae-side ; and
the two women, you slw, with long red cloaks and babes on their
backs, were wending their ways in opposite directions to the nearest
wayside cottages. The foreground of the picture was made up of
the comer of a wild heath, overshadowed by some fine old forest
trees ; and the whole formed a scene that Burns would have de-
lighted to describe, or Morland to paint. I am weak enough to
confess that I have long felt a lingering liking for those free and
easy dwellers in the " merrie greenwoods " — those vagrants whose
thieving propensities are so fully testified by all neighbouring
" preserves " of fish, fowl, or game ! There is not a single sun-
burnt rascal belonging to the genus gipsy that does not display a
fine eye for the picturesque in pitching his tent. He appears to
have an inborn faculty for seizing upon situations the most beauti-
ful ; and his loose careless attire and unstudied gait always blend
well with the landscape, and form a component part of the picture.
We are now passing through some of the most beautiful and
romantic sylvan scenery that can be found in all broad Scotland.
But presently the vale unfolds, and the hills all around are bare
and green to their very summits, and the contrast is beconung
more and more marked and distinct. The general character of the
valley is that of perfect pastoral repose, with nothing stem or
sorrowful in its seclusion. It impresses you rather as an abode tor
quiet, lonely, pensive meditation. As you advance it seems as if
you wei*e throwing off the dust and ashes created by this world's
passions and follies, and were passing into a region of more than
earthly blessedness and peace. Its distinction lies in the deep
overpowering impression with which a " meek loveliness, a soft-
ness still and holy," penetrates the inmost soul. You feel your
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spirit stilled-T-jou become conscious of an awakening of the pro-
foimdest feelings of your being — for among such scenes nature does
all that can be done to lift you above that which is mean and
selfish and unmanly.
Where was it that the fiimous Flower of Yarrow Vale lay
bleeding 1 Some of the Yarrow folks point to a place in the
direction of Newark, where the stream presents a somewhat gloomy
appearance ; but Sir Walter Scott says that the scene of combat
was a low muir lying a little to the west of Yarrow-kirk. Two
massive stones mark the place ; and " the least child that can herd
a cow, will tell the passenger that there lie ' the two lords that
were slain in single combat.' "
"Yestreen I dreamed a dolefu' dream,
I fear there will be sorrow !
I dream'd I pu'd the heather green
Wr my true love on Yarrow.
" gentle wind that bloweth south
Frae where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth,
And tell me how he fareth !
" But in the glen strive armed men,
They've wrought me dole and sorrow ;
TheyVe slain— the fairest knight they've slain.
He bleeding lies on Yarrow !"
As she sped down yon high high hill,
She gaed wi' dole and sorrow,
And in the den spied ten slain men
On the dowie banks o' Yarrow.
She kiss'd his cheek— she kaim'd his hair,
She searched his wounds all thorough ;
She kiss'd them till her lips grew red.
On the dowie houms o' Yarrow.
It was near sunset when J approached St Mar/s Loch. The
solemn mountains which surround this lonely sheet of water were
reflected with wonderful distinctness in the tranquil bosom of the
lake, where they seemed to find a quiet resting place. It is true
that I saw not the poet's famous picture verified —
The swan on still St. Mary's Lake
Float double, swan and shadow—
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yet so peaceful was nature on that still autumnal eyening that
even the heavens above — ^the grassy bank on which I stood — the
long dark mass of Scotch pines stretching half way up the moun-
tain side — and, indeed, everything that came within the lake's
embrace, animate or Inanimate, reflected its shadowy counterparty
and blended in perfect stillness with the scene. A narrow foot-
path leads to the quiet moorland churchyard of St. Mary — the
burial place of many a famous outlaw and Border warrior — from
which point the finest view of the lake is unquestionably obtained.
You look around and see the sportsmen busy on the hills imme-
diately above, and in a few minutes the loud cry of the black-cock
startles you from your musings. Flash — ^flash, — ^rap — rap, go the
rifles, and in an instant the whirring of wings cease, and a brace
of fine birds lie bleeding on the heather within twenty yards of
the place where you stand. Sir Walter Scott delighted to ramble
among the scenery surrounding this retired church-yard. Hei*e he
would seat himself by the side of a friend, con over some old
border ballad well suited to the scene, and narrate the traditions
of neighbouring glens. Here a bright autumn day was passed in
company with Miss Edgeworth, " one of these heavenly days which
cannot die," — and we are told that Sir Walter rambled in all
directions to gather heath-flowers and blue-bells and "gowans,"
with which the young ladies of the party twined their hair — and
they sang, and he i*ecited, until it was time to return to Abbots-
ford beneath the softest of harvest moons.
After a long day's march I reached the famous Tibbie Shiels,
which is shaded by sheltering trees, and snugly seated on a narrow
slip of meadow-land between St. Mary's Loch and the Loch of the
Lowes. I had considerable difficulty, however, in securing quarters
for the night, so full was this little hostelry of anglers : for be it
remembered that all streams flowiug through the forest are what
old Isaac would have denominated " trouty streams," the Meggat
being perhaps the most noted in Scotland. I was delighted to find
in Tibbie's principal apartment some of the odd volumes of Black-
WQodla Magazine^ a medallion bust of Christopher North, and a
portrait of the Ettrick Shepherd — things which seen in such a place
possess a tenfold interest, and link at least some of the glories of
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the past to the present. Seated by the fireside, I listened to the
crack given by Tibbie Shiels, a tidy, kind-hearted, little Scotch
woman of some seventy summers. She had clear recollections of
fche visits paid by Sir Walter Scott and Wordsworth to her house
at various times ; but to Tibbie's mind Professor Wilson and the
Ettrick Shepherd naturally presented much greater attraction, and
above everything toweled the Noctes Ambrosianos enacted at her
house.
" That was the grandest day we ever saw," said the old woman,
proudly, " when the Noctia was actit here. Ye'll fin' the haill
afiair prentit in Maister Blackwood's magazine. The hoose was
just cramm'd fu' o' gentry : some fi-ae Ettrick, some frae Yarrow,
and some frae a' pairts. And that nicht, ye ken, the Professor
was bricht ; and then Maister Hogg telt them his queerest stories,
and keepit them aye lauchin' — ^for, mind ye, the Shepherd was a
droll ane when he likit."
In the morning I had a pleasant ramble over the mountains, in
the direction of Ettrick-kirk. I sat down among the heather for
a short time, and many of the scenes in the Ebtrick Shepherd's
chequered life passed in brief review before my mind's eye. I
thought of the time, when only eight years old, he was sent to herd
sheep with a rosy cheeked girl of the same age, and how he once
laid his head on her lap, and pretended to fall asleep, when she
whispered to herself, " Poor wee laddie ! he's just tired to death."
The funeral of the shepherd-poet impressed itself forcibly upon my
memory. There' was little pomp or ceremony when his remains
were conveyed slowly from Altrive up that quiet green valley to
the churchyard of Ettrick, their last earthly resting place. The
day was dull and dismal ; everything looked bleak ; and a sprink-
ling of snow covered the ground. Most of the attendants were
relatives or neighbours. One tall, manly figure, however, was seen
to linger after every one else had departed. The tears rolled down
his cheeks as he stood looking mournfiilly into the shepherd's
grave. His head was uncovered, and his long fair hair waved to
and fro in the wintry breeze. Everything spoke of the deep
sorrow which rent his manly soul. That mourner was no other
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than VtcfesBOt Wifaon ; and I love to linger on thifl true act of a
true-^eatted mail.
I returned to my own fireside Ibot-sore^ weary, and regulatij
used-up — but what of t^at 1 A runble such as I have attempted
to describe, leaves reooUeciiotia and impresdons upon the mind
which are caleolated . to make us richer and happier perha{» for
life. Bright images are treasured up in the memory, whidi so
often flash upon the inward eye that they cannot grow dim or pass
into nothiUfnte. And nature is e^er whispmng and making us
conscious that we live for other and far nobler ends than the mere
gathering together of m<mej or merchandise. The shepherd boy
among the Braes q£ Yarrow, shading the sunlight from his eyes
with uplifted hand, as he listens in wrapt admiration to the melody
poured forth by the little lark, *' the Robin Bums of his tribe ;''
and the poor weaver^s wife of any of our large overgrown Lanca-
shire towns, training with tender care the few flowers which
adorn the window of her cottage-home; both testify that the nature
of our common humanity craves for some portion at least of that
which is beautiful, and pore, and unsullied by the selfishness within
us, whidi encrusts and destroys.
g^Duml MvAt».
A LEGEND OP CONISTONE.
SoMB few hundred years ago, the inhabitants of these contiguous
dales were startled from their propriety, if they had any, by a
report that one of the Troutbeck giants had built himself a hut,
and taken up his abode in Uie lonely dell of ''The Tarns," above
Tewdale Head. Of course you have read the history and exploits
of the famous Tom Hickathrift, and remembering that he was
raised at Troutbecl^ you will not be surprised when I tell you that
it was always famous for breeding a race of extraordinary size and
strength, for even in these our own puny days, the biggest man in
Westmorland is to be found in that beautiful vale.
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The excitement consequent upon the settlement of one of that
gigantic race in this vicinity soon died away, and the object of it,
who stood somewhere about nine feet six out of his clngs — if they
were in fiishion then — ^and was broad in fkir proportion, became
known to the neighbours as a capital labourer, ready for any such
work as was required in the rude and limited agricultural operations
of the period and locality — answered to the cognomen of " Girt
(great) Will o' f Tarns," and, once or twice, did good service as a
billman under the Knight of Oonistone, when he was called upon
to muster his powers to assist in repelling certain roving bands of
Scots or Irish, who were wont, now and again, to invade the
wealthy plains of Low Fumess.
The particular Knight, who was chief of the Flemings of Con-
istone, at the period of the gianf s location at the Tarns, was far
advanced in the vale of years, and, in addition to some six or eight
gallant and stately sons, had
<* One fair davight^r* and no \m[%
The which he 1ovq4 P98»ing well.''
And Eva le Fleming, called by the country people " the Lady Eva,"
was famed throughout the broad north for her beauty and gentle-
ness, her high-bred dignity and her humble virtues ; but it is not
with her that my story has to do. She like the mother of " the
gentle lady married to the Moor," had a maid called Barbara, an
especial favourite with her mistress, and, in her own sphere, deemed
quite as beautiful. In fact, it was hinted that, when she happened
to be in attendance upon her lady^ on festive or devotional occa-
sions, the eye^ of even knights and well-born s(j^uires were as often
directed to the maid as to the mistress, and seemed to express as
much admiration in one direction as the other. And when mounted
on Lady Eva's own palfi*ey, bedecked in its gayest trappings, she
rode, as she oftentimes did, to visit her parents at Skelwith, old
and young were struck with her beauty, and would turn, fis she
ambled past, to gaze after her, and to wonder at the elegance of
her figure, the ease of her deportment, and the all-surpassing love-
liness of her features. Her lady, notwithstanding the disparity of
theiri«mik, loved her m a sister, tuxdit was idii8{)ered amoxtgst iter
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envious feUow-servants, that her mistress's fondness made her
assume airs unbecoming her station. True enough it was that she
seemed sufficiently haughty and scornful in her reception of the
homage paid to her charms by the young men of her own rank,
and by many above it. The only one to whom she showed the
slightest courtesy on these occasions was wild Dick Hawksley, the
Knight's falconer, and he was also the only one who appeared to
care no more for her favours than for her frowns.
The Lady Eva, as well beiits high-bom dames, was somewhat
romantic in her tastes, and would often row for hours upon the
lake, and wander for miles through the woods, or even upon the
mountains, unattended, save by her favourite bower-maiden. And
one evening in autumn, after having been confined for two whole
days to the hall by heavy and incessant rain, tired of playing chess
with her father and battledore with her younger brothers, or super-
intending the needlework of her maids, and tempted by the briUiant
moonlight and now unobscured skies, she summoned Barbara, and
set out upon a stroll by the lake side.
The pair were sauntering along a path cut through the dense
coppice, the lady leaning in condescending affection upon the
shoulder of her maiden, and listening to a recital of how, on her
return from some of her visits to her parents, she had been way-
laid by Great Will of the Tarns, and how, on a recent evening, he
had attempted to seize her rein, and would have stopped her, had
she not whipt the palfrey, and bounded past him. The lady was
expressing her indignation at this insolence, when a gigantic figure
sprang upon the pathway, and snatching up the screaming Barbara
with the same ease with which she herself would have lifted an
infant, vanished on the instant amongst the thick hazels.
The Lady Eva stood . for a minute powerless with terror and
astonishment at this audacious outrage; but the sound of the
monster crashing his headlong course through the coppice, and the
half-stifled screams of his captive, soon recalled her suspended
faculties, and then
" Fair" Eva "through the hazel grove
Flew, like a startled cushat-dove,''
back to the hall, where, breathless with terror and exertion, she
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gave the alarm that Barbara had been carried off by the Giant,
There was noisy and instantaneous commotion among the carousing
gentles at the upper, and the loitering lackeys at the lower end of
the hall. Dick Hawksley, and a few more, darted off in imme-
diate pursuit on foot, while several rushed to the stables, in obedi-
ence to the calls of their young masters, who were, one and all,
loudly vociferating for their horses. Scarce a minute passed^ ere
half a dozen le Flemings, attended by as many mounted followers,
were spurring like lightning through the wood in the direction of
Yewdale. They came in sight of the Giant and his burthen as he
neared Cauldron Dub, with the light-heeled folconer close behind,
calling loudly upon him to stay his flight ; but he held on with
tremendous strides, till he reached the brow over the pool, when,
finding that the horsemen were close upon him, and that it was
hopeless to try to carry his prize farther, he stopped — ^uttered one
terrible shout of i*age and disappointment — and whirled his shriek-
ing victim into the flooded beck, resuming his now unincumbered
flight with increased speed. Dick Hawksley rushed over the bank
a little lower down, and the horsemen, abandoning the chase, gal-
loped to the brink of the stream, which was high with the recent
rains. They saw the fiilconer plunge into the torrent, as the bower-
maiden, yet buoyant with her light garments, was borne rapidly
down. They saw him seize her with one hand, and strike out gal-
lantly for the bank with the other, but the current was too strong
for him, encumbered as he was with the girl in his grasp. The
devoted pair were swept down the stream, at a rate that made the
' spectators put their horses to a gallop to keep them in sight, even
while the exertions of the brave falconer sufficed to sustain their
heads above water, which was only till they came under the bridge,
where the water, pent in by the narrow arch, acquired four-fold
force, and there they heard him utter a hoarse cry of despair, and
the gallant Hawksley and the Lady Eva's beauteous favourite were
seen no more, till their bodies were found, days after, on the shore
far down the lake. One or two of the horsemen continued to
gallop down the side of the beck, in the bootless hope of being
able even yet to render them some aid, but the most of them turned
their horses' heads, and went off once more at their utmost speed
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in pnrsnit of tibe murderons Giant. He, considering the cliase at
an end, slackened his pace, and they were not long in overtaking
him. Great Will stmck oiit manfully with his club (time ont of
mind the giant's favourite weapon) as they rushed upon him, but
they speedily surrounded him, and, amid a storm of vengeful yells
and bitter execrations, the Giant of the Tarns was stretched upon
the sward, ''with the blood running like a little brook " from a
hundred wounds, for he was so frightfully slashed and mangled by
their swords, that — as my informant naively averred — there was
not so much whole skin left upon his huge body as would have
made a tobacco-pouch. — Prom " The (Hd Mim"
KITTY DAWSON, THE MANIAC OF GRAITHWAITB
WOODS.
It is now a kng time sen that Kitty Dawson leevd here. She was
reckcmed yan of the handscnnest lasBes, I suppose, about Dalepark,
when she was a lass. Her falser was a poor honest man and a
wood-cutter like mysell ; but Kitty was his only child, and she was,
ye may guess, a fiivourite. When she was about sixteen, she fdl
in with a young man that sometimes cut wood with her father.
He was a stiddy young fdlow ; he was careful and had saved a
little miktter of brass. Kitty's parents could see no objection to
such a match, if they wod wait till she was a few years elder.
They were looked on by ivery body as a par ; and they both con-
sidered the coming day as sartan, though delayed. I weel remem-
ber hearing nay father tell it He was cutting wood that day his
«ell, in that varra wood. They hed just sitten down to their dinner,
under some trees ; for they thought it wod be a diower, it looked
BO black over the water. The storm came on. It was ihe terriWest
thunner storm, my father said, he ever knew. Jem PaA, Mm
that was to wed Kitty, had kid his head again -the roCk, when a
thunder boH fell on it, and lolled down, and kiUed him dead on the
«pot li, was a sorry -day, at Darlepark, wImjb they took Jem bone
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dead ; for be was a lad that iyery body reepected. Kitty, ye may
be sure, took it terribly out. After the wood was done, the colliers
left their cabin standing, as they commonly due ; and Elitty went
to it and staid there as long as she lived. Her friends could niver
persuade her to come back ; for if they got her away by force, she
was soon at the cabin again. She niver thought of leaving her
cabin till she was hungered out, and then she wod just gang to
some farm house, and tak what they had a mind to give her. This
she wod carry back to her cabin, and live on it as long as it lasted,
and then go off some whither for another supply.
I can just remmemer, when I was a lile lad, being sent with a
basket of meat, sometimes, to old Eitt/s cabin ; for ivery body
was good to her, poor silly thing. When I went she wod just tak
the basket out of my hand, and empty it, and give it me back
again ; but she hardly iver spoke ; and at most only said, '< GkKxl
lad, good lad !"
I can just recollect, that one morning some gentlemen had beoi
out with their guns ; and, as usual, hud looked in at Kitt/s cabin
to give her something, when they found her lying dead on the straw
beyond the fira Yan of 'em sent a cart, and had her taken to a
house at Dalepark ; and they buried her, I believe, at their own
expense. If I was in the wood, I could show you the varra spot
where old Kitty's cabin stood, for I have been at it many a time.
Bat its quite down lang sen, and hardly any body knows that poor
old Kitty Dawson iver lived thera Poor thing ! poor thing. —
Lanadale Magazine, 1821.
HCTGH HIRD, THE TROTITBECK GIANT.
" That this country has produced strong men," replied the old man,
"is clear from Hugh Hird, the Troutbeck giant" "Was he
something remai*kable V enquired my uncle. "He was a stronger
^ man than eidier Sampson or Tom Hickathrift," he replied. " What
strange associations," whispered my sister, "take place in the
minds of che uneducated. I have no doubt but he considers the
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sfcory of Tom Hickathrifb equally authentic as that of Sampson !"
" And where did the Troutbeck giant live T said my uncle. " He
lived in Troutbeck to be sure," answered the old man. " When
they built Kentmere Hall — ^you'll have heard of Kentmere Hall] —
one Gilpin lived at it—" " I hope," said my father, ** the existence
of the Troutbeck giant in no wise depends upon our knowledge of
Kentmere Hall." "No," replied the old man, rather piqued,
" Hugh Hird was dead and gone long before you were bom. And
if you dispute it, you may go into Troutbeck, and enquire for Hird
House, and Hird parrock, and Hird brig, and Hugh Hird wife
park ; and you'll find them alL The very house where he lived,
was part of it standing since I remember, though it is pulled down
now." "But what connection had Kentmere^Hall with all this?"
enquired my father. " None at all," replied the old man ; " but
when they built it, ten men had for a long time been trying to lift
one end of a beam ; and ^jhey could not stir it. But while they
were at dinner, Hugh Hird came by, and laid it up himself" " Such
a man," observed my father, " would make a rapid progress at the
dinner table." "Yes," said the old man, "he had an excellent
appetite. Once, a long time before post-boys and mail-coaches were
invented. Lord Dacre, who lived then just over these hills, hired
him to go to London to tell the king about some Scotch freebooters
who came down on the dark winter nights, to rob his brother's
sheep pastures at Naworth Castle. Hugh Hird set off on foot to
London, a terrible journey then to what it is now. When he got
thither, the king behaved very well to him, and aaked him what he
would have for dinner. He said they might cook bim the sunny
aide of a wether. This puzzled the king and all his attendants
most sadly. At length they found out that a wether was a sheep,
but it was a long time before they could tell which was the sunny
sida When they were nearly all puzzled, the king bethought
himself the sun shone on all sides of a sheep ; and he therefore
ordered the whole sheep to be cooked, which Hugh Hird devoured
for his dinner. When he had done, he stroked down his waistcoat,
and told the king that he had not got so good a dinner since he left
Troutbeck." " Indeed," said my fiither, " I think the mail-coach
would travel to London and back for less expense than Hugh Hird.
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Half a dozen Riich men would be enough to make a famine in the
country."* — Ibid,
* Clarke, in his Survey of the Lakes, published in 1787, gives the following:
version of this legend :—'" There lived at Troutbeck a man of aiaaziag strength,
whose name was Uilpin, i-ommonly culled tlie *' Cork LaU of Kentmere." I
cannot tell much mure about him thau what I pickea ouo ul* the church
regijster, and some iuemuird of uue WilU^m Ba'kou o. Ji- 's.Ijoo.;. II j livcJ
in the time of Edward VI. 11 is m jtlier wa^ a pu^>r woiutin (oouij say a iiuu),
and begged from house to house to support hjis^if and son, and drew to a
house upon an estate called Troutb^ck-park wh.cn had boen forfeited to the
Crown, and of so little value that no notice was tai;ea of it for some time. At
last being granted, the grautee went to take po^ses^ion, buu was prevented by
this **Curk lad," who was tiieu just come to .naas estate, quite uncivilized,
and knew no law but strength, lie was therefore sent for to London, and
by fair si>eeches and wiles got thither. During tiis stay, the King held a day
afl he did iuauy, for gymnastic amusements ; this " Cork lad " observed the
several combatants, but particularly the wrestlers ; at last he mounted the
stage (in his undyed dress which his mother had spun him) and threw the
. champion with ease, and did other feats ; so that the King sent for him, and
asked his name, where he came from, &c. He told the King, that himself
could neither read nor write, therefore could not well teU his own name, but
folk call me " The Cork Lad o' Kentmere,'* (which name he undoubtedly
received from his corcousuess or corpulency.) The King asked him what he
lived upon ? He answered ^' Thick pottage, and milk that a mouse might
walk upon dry shod, to his breakfast ; and the sunny side of a wedder to his
dinner, when he could get it "—with many other such like questions and
answers. At last the King wanting to. re ward him as a chunpion of the
wrestlers, asked him if he had want of any particular thing, and he should have
it. All he asked for was the house he and his mother lived in, the paddock
behind it to get peats for fuel, and liberty to cut wood for the fire in Trout-
beck park. These were immediately granted him, as the whole estate would
have been if he had asked it, being at that time not worth more than five
pounds a-year, besides the wood. No one, however, attempted to interfere
with him in the enjoyment of the whole, which was not long ; for tradition
tells us, that he killed himself at the age of forty-two with pulling up trees
by the root. He was never married, and the estate was afterwards granted
by Charles L to Huddleston Phillipson of Cawgarth. He was reputed to be
a natural child, and his mother (according to one of my authors) a nun turned
out of Furness Abbey for being with child of him. He is by some called
Gilpin, by others Herd."
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nt §AiUt*» §00k-€m*
We have received a batch of pamphlets,* in the Cumberland dialect,
which for raciness and humour we think will be found unsurpassed
by the dialectic productions of any other county. Literary works
of this character, whatever their artistic excellence may be, are of
the utmost valua The preservation of the peculiar idiomatic forms
of speech in the language of any country, supplies a most important
link to the linguist and the anthropologist, in their endeavour to
separate into distinct races the composite inhabitants of the United
Kingdom. The Keltic, Kymric, and Teutonic origin of the English
nation have each their respective advocates, and to these advocates
the pamphlets before us are invaluable, as words and phrases are
found in them that are still in common use, but which never find
their way into the dictionaries. We have not space at disposal
for an extended notice, as the works came to hand late in the
month, but as they can all be purchased for something less than a
shilling, we would urge upon our readers to procure them, with the
assurance that they will be found not only interesting to the scholar,
but to readers of every class.
WAIFS AND STRAYS.
''When found, make a note of."— Oaptaiit CtrxTLB.
Marriages. — The *' Bridewain," or " Bidden Wedding," was not
confined to Westmorland alone, but was general throughout all the
north of England. Poor blind Stagg, the faithful poet of Wigton,
has described one of these scenes in the most natural colours ;
Anderson of Carlisle, in his Cumberland ballads, does not come &r
behind him. The Collier Wedding is another excellent descriptioli
* " Lamplugh Club/ " Gwordy and Will," " Joe and the Geologist," "A
Tail for Joe and the Geologist," " The Borrowdale Letter," " The Wild I>og
of Ennerdale."— Whitehaven : Callandbb and Dixon. "Bobby Bank's
Bodderment," by the author of " Joe and the Geologist"— Carlisle : Gaoaas
OOWAKD.
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of the Btidewain. It never prevailed much in Lancashire. The
last that took place in that county, was about forty or fifty years
ago, at Blirkby Ireleth. — ^It was usual to invite the whole country,
fitr and near, to these weddings; and at the appointed time, pre-
parations were made for a general feast. Each of the company gave
something to the bride, who sat with a plate upon her knee to
receive the contributions of the company.
^^ The breyde now on a coppy stual,
Sits down iW fould a' whith'ria',
With pewter dibbler on her lap,
On which her towgher's gath'rin' ;
The fwoak leyke pez in a keale pot,
Are yen thro' tother minglin',
An' crowns an' hauf crowns thick as hail,
* Are i' the dibbler jinglin',
Beeght fast that day."
This subscription not only served to clear the expenses of the day,
but produced an outfit for the new married pair. After the
marriage ceremony, they all mounted their horses and had a race
for a ribbon and a pair of gloves. This generally created con-
siderable mirtL The race over and the gathering done, the
company sat down to dinner, which is well described by Anderson.
Stagg says,
*' Indeed there was some feckless fwok,
At luikt to be owr neyoe,
'At nobbit nibblen peykt an' eat,
Just leyke as monny meyce ;
But then there was some yetherin' dogs,
'At owr the lave laid th' capsteane,
For some they said eat lumps as big
As Sammy Liank's lapsteane,
rth' bam that day."
Thus being " weel trigged with solid geer," they retired to the loft
to dance. Ale and liquors were handed round, and all drank their
fill. To fill up the day, races, wrestling, or any athletic sports
were resorted to among the dancing and diinking. lb seldom
hap^)ened among so large a company of '* rustics, weel plied wi'
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drink/' that they parted without a lattle or two j and it was gen-
eiaiiy uearJy nioriiiug beluru ti.e party Wits completely broken up.
TliCio was another cuaooui a« ma-rriagcs rather more ancient thau
\,Lu luat p.vvailed in Laucaohii-e and bouie parts of (Jumberlaud.
i lio L^rvi Ui. the Manor, iu \»ho&e juiiodioauii tuc Liiariiuge took.
j ;..i.v, uiio\.«jvi cj-ic puiwicb a piuce ol gruund xor a nuUbo aud garden.
— .i .xi^ij iiicudj ciioicioie a£>dcniuJlcd uu Ino wedding day, aud che
L.^uj^iUOiU uavinj^ [^roviucd a uinncr aud uriuii, tiiey bet tO work
i.a»i c^j^owiUwcoa advv'ciiing ior the young coupit;, oi ciuy and wood;
nia^.^V oa Ciicoo ■' ciu,y big^iua ' »iiii remani in ^nc i'^ide, iu Lanca-
b^iio. I'xio r*.la.;ivcd of uiu paii* rurnL>nod i/heni witii the most
ncccooary paiu oi the luinioiire, and thtj^ were tuUb cnahied to start
Icdr iii iLn ^^orid. — LoitsdaU liiayazut^.
hiOSiu ijiifi^ii-iiK^sTo. — iiy id pi\;.;ty gonuraliy aiio*ved that the
auciunu l>iicoiis letaiued a lootnig iu this couatry iuug alter they
buoaaie oleuded and lost amoug Jie invau.era, iu.Ooher paixs of the
nation, idence io arises tliao relics of the ancient Britons are so
frequently found in these parts. VVe have ourselves given publicity
to a few ; others have been described in the papers read before the
iSociety oi Ajitiquaries, and many have, undoubtedly, been found
which have never been described.— In addition to those we have
before dcociibed, we have now before us one of the real British
i>aldo Axes. It is made of hard stone, without seams, and is
rac^her wedge shaped, being sharp on the edges all round, aud
raciier llat ; about 8^ inches long, 3 inches broad, and 2 inches
t.jick. It has been kindly forwarded by Mr. S. Moore, of Ulverston,
accoiupanied wich the followiug note : — " On an estate called
Holme Green, Kirkby Ireleth, Lancashire, in a mossy part which
had never been cultivated, when lately draining and turning the
same with a spade, were discovered ii\e or six stones, the same as
the one sent ; which I conjecture to be the '' Ceits'' of the ancient
iuhabitants of this country. Two more were also found very highly
polished ; but which are not now to be found, in consequence of a
lack of antiquarian knowledge, or curiosity. Having seen four,
they are all nearly of the same size, varying not more than an inch
and a half from the one I have sent. i)r. Plott seems to consider
it the battle-axe, and designates it Securis Lapidea; and Dr. Leigh
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Htivjs, *'it. in>v 1):^ c;)j i lerxl as on:) of the ^r3ate.<t v(^.lic'. of ariM-
quiv/.'^ Oaui>ieii, by Goiigli, mentions one found at Gleaaton, in
Furness, and gives a jjlate of it/'* — Ibid.
A Case of Graduax Change of Form and Position of Land at
THE South End of the Isle of Walney, by Mr. R. A. Pevcock.
— The chief object of this paper is to procure, if possible, the
making of a ^^ervTi^^nen^ record of the extent of land in 1797
and 1833, which in process of time would become more and more
interesting After the present writer's time, his papet*?? will* pro-
bably be scattered or destroyed, and no more favourable opportunity
than the present, oi recording the facts, can ever occur. Two
methods present themselves. Fii'St, could the authorities of the
Ordnance Survey be induced to engrave the lines of 1797 and 1833
on the copper plates 1 Or, second, would the section cause as much
of the map as is necessary to be re-engraved and published in their
next annual volume ? Thirdly, a survey of the present coast line
could probably be made by some sui-veyor living in the neighboui*-
bood, for about £5 ; and the case seems to be ripe for a new survey.
Thus a record for seventy years would be accomplished. The map
shows on the left a line marked J. Cragg, 1797 ; another by the
present writer, 1833 ; and the engraved line of the Ordnance Sur-
vey, of which the date is 1847. And the same dates in a reversed
oi*der occur on the right. The land, consisting of sand mostly, and
water worn pebbles, continues to be washed away on the left or
west, at the average rate of nearly eight feet in widtb per annum,
round Hilpsford Point, and gradually progresses as gravel (the sand
disappearing) along the beach towards south-east and north-east
points, at and between which it remains, and gradually becomes
* Many stone implements exhibiting the same characters as those described
above, have been frequently met with in this district. In the years 1864-5,
seveial fine specimens were found on Winder Moor, in Cartmel — four of which
we have seen in the possession of Mr. Jabez Cook, an enthusiastic young
antiquary, of Ulverston. The stone of which they are manufactured appears
to be one of the extreme of the felspathic series— a pure felstone or petrosilex,
of a pale blueish or greyish ^een, except where the surface has been acted
upon. The average composition is said to be "25 parts quartz and 75
felspar. Its physical characters are absence of toughness, and the existence
of a splintery conchoidal fracture almost as shai^ as fiint." Stone imple-
n^ents found m the neighbourhood are also in the possession of Messrs. S. H.
Jackson, J. K. Hodgson, W. Wells Hodgson, and ourselves.— Ed. N, L,M
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corered over with loose sand drifted from the Babbit Warren.
The same westerly storms which destroy the land on the west, thus
create fresh land on the east, for it soon begins to produce grass,
and so provides other land in exchange for the lost part of the
warren. The breadth of the land on the narrowest part was
about 1,610 feet in 1847, and it follows that at the then rate
of waste, the sea will make a breach through the island about
A.D. 2052. The gravel-bed, at the south-east point, between 1833
and 1847 extended neariy twelve feet annually, at which rate of
progress it would fill up Hawes Hole, and reach Seldom Seen Scar
about the year 1930, thereby filling up the channel leading to Peel
Harbour ; but in the meantime another channel will probably have
been scooped out by Uie sea, across Far-Hill Scar, so as to continue
to give coasting vessels access to Peel Harbour. The map consists
of parts of Ordnance Sheets, 27 and 28 Iiancashire, scale £iix inches
to a statute mile. If this process of removal c^ land has bee^ going
on ever since Ptolemy's time — and it would appear that it xanst
have been, for the west side of the rabbit warren consists of sand
intermixed with rounded pebbles — it follows that more tba^ two
and a half mijes in breadth of land must have been washed away
during the last seventeen centuries, and deposited fisirther ea^
And this is independent of risings and sinkings of land whic|;L may
have occurred anywhere, and either singly, repeatedly, or alter-
nately. A sufficient consideration of these circumstances would
often assist in explaining difficult passages in the descriptian^ given
by ancient g^graphers and historiaipi^ — British Aasodafium Report ^
1866.
YAEIETIES.
<<|*rom grave to gay, ^i^ lively to severe.''
HoGABTH, THE T^ouTBECK Ehymsteb. — In Troutbeok was bom
one Hogarth, a poqt, who was descended from the sam^ sjtoc^ with
the celebrated painter of that name, and lived at the same time.
[From 1697 to 1764.] Their great grandfather, there called Tfipmas
Hoggart, was bom at the village of Bampton, in Westmoziand,
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where he and his two sons are registered in the parish register.
They always spelfc it Hoggart, tiH the painter softened it into
Hogarth. Our poet wrote three or four plays, and had a party of
comedians (his own villagers) to perform them at the Christmas
entertainments. So much has appeared in the magazines and
newspapers of this man, that I shall in part be silent concerning
him ; only giving here a specimen of his poetry, copied from his
own hand-writing, which is all the original T at present have. He
was a poor labouring man, and wrote his pieces mostly after supper,
or on Sunday afternoons. They were generally upon some par-
ticular affair that happened in his neighbourhood, and were sung
by himself or his companions over a glass of ale at the next meet-
ing. He frequently made satirical songs on his neighbours, (if they
had stra/d or tripp'd a little,) and sung them in the presence of
the party, for which he often received a broken pate, and indeed
had one eye knocked 00 by a blow with a stick from one of them.
Let his song speak for him.
THE TAMING OP A SHREW.
AH you that are assembled here, come listen to my song,
But first a favour I do crave for fear of doing wrong ;
I do intreat this company that they will silent be.
And then a merry song I'll sing if theyTl thereto agree.
The song which I intend to sing, touch women most of all,
Yet loth f am that any here should with me scold or hrawl ;
For Fve enough of that at home, at board, and eke at bed,
And once for singing of this song my wife she broke my head.
3ut if p)e0s^ be this company, and pleased be those mp,
I'll venture once more a broken pate, and sing it o'^r again ;
Bul^first r,Ll tell you what it's called, per];iaps you'JU hear no more ;
It's called the Taming of a Sh/rew^ not often sung before.
But if I do siAg the rest, your orders I do crave,
Hold up a finger or a thumb that would this song now have ;
Then will I sing with all my heart, and on with it will go,
You know my mind, pray let me know if I must sing or no.
Now, now, I see you willing are that I should ^nng the i^t,
And for to please this company I mean to do my besjb ;
I do perceive now by your looks, no harm to me you ^}f)k ;
&o it fell out upon a time, (but first pi^y let me.dm^j: ;)
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But luiiK It WHS e'ur that he could his purpose bring to pass :
He woo'd her oa until at length she granted his petition,
That she would be his married wife, upon this conditioi?,
That she should the breeches wear for a whole year and a day,
And not to be control'd at all whatever she did say.
It was the lonjB:est year he thought that came since he was bom,
Yet he the matter could not mend, for he thereto had sworn.
But still the year it hath an end, as that you well doth know,
And if the day be e'er so long, to evening it will grow.
So it fell out with her at last, her year it was ran out,
The sun, the moon, and all the stars, their race had ran about
He then began to tell his wife, her time was past and fled,
My dear, quoth he, since it is so, I now must be the head ;
But she that had borne sway so long would not be under brought,
Her temper so unruly was, that many a blow she got.
He beat her back, he beat her sides, he made her hhck and blue,
Tet for all that she would not mend, but worse and worse still grew;
Since banging wou'd her not amend, nor better make her be,
He moVd her up, in a cow mow, where she no light could see.
He was almost at his wits' end, not knowing what to do ;
So he with kind and loving words his stubbora wife did woo,
Tet she did bid him hold his peace, and swore it was the best ;
He then bethought him of a way which made him more at rest
He went onto a friend of his, and told him all his mind.
Who went with him into his house, and after they had din'd.
Dear wife, quoth he ! this Mend of mine is come here for thy good.
There is a vein under thy tongue must needs be leWh blood.
Then she began to use her tongue, and nul'd full sore and fast :
Tet she was bound for all her strength unto a post at last ;
And letten blood under her tongue, which bled full fast and sore,
Tet she did scold and brawl as much as she had done before.
Now, now, quoth he, the fault I see, she hath it from her mother,
It is her teeth infects the tongue, I'm sure it can be no other :
And since, quoth he, the fault I see, whate'er doth me befall,
ni poll her teeth quite from her head, perhaps her tongue and all.
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He took a pair of pinchers strong, and a large tooth puled out,
And foi to pidl another he did qiiickly set about ;
Slie then di'l hold up both her hands and did for mercy pray,
Protestin-^ that against his will she'd neither do nor say.
Witli that the hnsl»an.i was well ph»as'd that she* had so comply d,
And quickly loosd tur tV>iii tiie I'ost .0 wliic.i Im haid her tvd,
And from th:it uay iini 1 her death s.ij prov'd a loviiij^^ wi!\» ;
Kind, h uuble, and -b^dicnt still, and so did ..-nd tiieir strife.
Now I have shewn vum all, my friends, tlie way to tame a shrew,
If any here has S'ch a wite, ht» now knows what to do ;
But if lik'c; me, hedatvs uut lake such ligoroas nuthods with her,
Ilis days in misery he may spend, and be lienpeck'd for evjr !
—Clar/ces Survey of the Lakes, 1787.
[Some years since Dr. Gibson contributed to the Kendal
Mercury copii>us selections from the rhymes of Thomas Hoggart,
which were afterwards gathered together and publislied in a
small volume, but the one given above did not appear in the
collection.]
A BoRROWDALE Letter. — Copy of a letter by a young shepherd
to his friend in Borrowdale, describing his Voyage from White-
haven to Dublin : — Frind, I send te thisan, to tell thee
amackily what dreedful fine things I saw f th rwoad tuv an at yon
Dublin, and t' hardships Tve bidden. I set forrat o' Midsummer
day, an gat to Whitehebben, a gii-t sea-side town, whare sea-nags
eats cwoals out o' rack hurrys, like as barrels dus yal drink. 1
think sea-nags is nut varra wild, for tha winter them i' girtfwoalds
wi' out yats ; an as I was luiken about to gang to Ireland, I saw
twea duzzen o' fellows myakin a sea-nag tedder styake ov iron ; I
ast yan o' them if I cud git riden to Dublin *} an a man in a three
nuickt hat, 'at knackt like rotten sticks, telt me I mud gang wid
him, for a thing they caw tide, like t' post oth land was gangin, an
waddent stay o' nea body niver. Then four men in a lale sea-nag,
a fwoal I think, 'at tha caw't a bwoat, heltert our Dag an led it out
oth fwoald, then our nag slipt t' helter an ran away ; but tha hang
up a deal ov wind-clyath like blinder-brydals, wi' hundreds a ryapes
for rines. Land ran away an left us ; an our nag had eaten se
mony cwoals it was cwody, an cantert up wi' tya end an down wi'
tudder. I turnt as seek as a peet, an spewt aw 'at iver was imma.
Oh wunds ! I was bad, I thout I sud a deet ; I spewt aw culler&
Neest day efter we set forrat an island met ns, tha cawt it Man ;
I wad fain a seeu't cum hard toll us, but it slipt away by and left
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U8 ; but ^8um mare land met us neest day efter, but it was varra
shy, but we followt it up becose they sed Dublin was on't I per-
swadedet t' man ith three nuikt hat to ourgit it if he brast his nag,
and he telt a fellow to twine tail on't, as tha dua swine or bulls
when tha carry them to bait at Kessick an tha wilu't gang on ;
then we gat to Dublin prusently. But I hed like tull a forgitten
to tell tha, seek girt black fish we saw ; tha snourt when bha cum
out oth girt dub like thunner, and tha swallow land-nags as hens
du bigg ; mappen eat sea-nags when tha dee. It was a nice breet
mwomin when we war i' Dublin Bay, as tha caw't, whar t' sea
gangs up towart land as a dog dus to th' heed ov a bull Twea
men i' yan o' ther bwoats com to our nag aide ; they cawt them
Faddeys, yan cudden't tell thar toke be geese ; tha drank hartily
ov our water, it stinkt tyu, but we hed nout better to drink, for't
girt dub's as sote as brine, it wad puzzen thee if thou tyasted it; we
ga them twea fellows ith bwoat a helter, an tha led our nag into
Dublin, as wild as 'twas. But oh ! man, what a fine country thar
was ov tudder side on us ; hooses as wliite as drip, an as rank as
mice. Dublin town luikt like a girt foald full o' sheep, 'at yan cud
nobbut just see t' heeds on ; chymlas luikd like hwoms, an kurk
steeples and spires, as they caw them, like as menny gyote hwoms
amang tudder. Sea-nags is as rank i' Dublin beck as if thou was
luikin at ten thousand geese in a gutter ; tha hevn't fwoalds for
them as we hev iv Ingland, town keeps them warm i' winter, but
tha f^ed them wi' beck sand, as tha dya at Whitehebben wi' cwoals,
but nut out o' rack huriies ; they've a mouth in at t' side, whar
men feeds tem in at wi' girt iron spuins. But oh I man it was
lucky I leet ov a man 'at went to f scuil wi' me when I was a lale
lad ; we war deevlish thick, an he sed he wad let me see aw things.
If I hed gyan into Dublin be me sell, yan may gang fifty miles
a day and nout but hoos for hoos, and like our Iwonins for length,
yan cannot see t' yearth for pyavement neawhore, nor I sud nivver
seen awld Ingland agyan if I hed been be me sell, I dare say, for
tha ur the deevil for settin yan wrang if yan ass them. Thare's
hooses tha caw public beddings 'at's sae fine I can't tell thee wha^t
tha ur like. The Parlemen-hoos, whore gentlemen gang to bate
yan annuder, thare's a vast ov girt styan props oth fwor side on't ;
thare's a room wi' reed furms in't whore tha feight, I luik it's bluid
m'appen ; thare was a lale woman let's see that hoos, about four
fuit hee ; she was as thick as three awld meai*s twined tugidder, I
wondert 'at she didn't grow heer, leevin in a hoos twenty or thirty
fuit hee, but she was as bryad as a haycock. Anenst it, about a
styan-throw off Parlemen-hoos, was CoUership-hoos, it's a bigger
plyaee ner tudder. If thou was iver in a plyace whore girt crags
hing OY aw sides o' thee, it waa be like t' square, as tha caw't ith
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middle o'th Oollership liooses ; fwok 'at I saw theare war t' myast
o' them as black as deeviln ; it sartainly isn't hell, but tha say tha
get deed fwoke out o' thar graves; I think its true, for I saw a vast
of deed fwoke byans, an sum lockt up i' glass coffins wi' flesh on,
an tha had bams and bits o' flesh presarv'd i' bottles as fwok dus
berries ; thare was a fellow wid a bunch o' keys, 'at oppent locks an
duirs as fast as luik, it myad me think ot' Rebelations, whore yan
reeds oth keys of deeth aud hell : thou m'appen understandh that
plyace. We war in a playce tha caws Musium, whore thare's aw
things 'at's comical, a thousan things 'at tow niver saw, ner I can
caw ; thare war mus-deer hwoms as bryad as our back-bword, an
bits ov ow manner oy hwoms ; I cannot tell thee what, but thare's
f whoms nyamed i'th Rebelatiuns ; and wee'l hev a vast o' toke
fira^ I be yable to cum and see thee. — I was at a plyace tha caw
Common Exchange, whore fwok fra aw nuiks o'th warld meet
togidder to bye an sell aw things 'ab iver thou can nyam, t' midst
onVs like a beehive, but stands o' top ov lang freestan legs, wid a
girt round winda i'th crown on\ and like a wide hoos round about
legs, a covers as mikel ground as f tarn at t' Gk)wd Arks inn, thou
kenst. I saw a plyace tha caw Cassel, whore a man tha caw
'Tennant leevs, he's stuart ov Irelan for our king, t' Iword meer of
Dublin's his heed servant ; an fwok sed he went throo hell to kurk
ivry Sunday ; I thout it hed been sum street Iwonin, mappen, 'at
thad caw sae' but I £edrly saw him stannin like a duir steed, rais'd
about twea yeards o' th' yearth, but I thing he was chain'd tuth
spot becose he dudn't stur, mappen deed, but it was a durk black
Iwonin oover'd our wi' black hooses, an I perswadet my fuit to
carry me a guid way off seek curositys, for I was amyast freetint
to deeth ; but ifc was varra weel I hed strenth to run away. Now
thou may be sure I gev my conuud a deevilish lessin for traillin
me throo heU, he's flait o' nout, but carry'd me to parish-kurk, it's
as big as a town for girtness, an as menny fwok at it ; thare was
hoaf-airduzzen o' priests at wark, but wee'd nobbut staid a bit when
summet tha cawt roworgins began a heeling like a hundred mad
bulls, an as menny lale lads i' thar sarks began a screemin murder,
I think, for ivry heel was like thunner ; my feet then carr't me
without perswadin, in a calleevir owr fwok an aw 'at iver was
imme way, till I gat intul a great feeld a mile aboot, tha cawd it
Steben's Green^ I think efber a man on a girt gray nag, 'at was
stannan a-top on a lale hoos i't midst on't ; hee'd his swjird drawn,
but he dursn't git off for want o' room ; I think tha sed hee'd been
freetint as I was, but I was sae freetint I hardly knew what I dud
or sed : but I saw annuder man a-top ov a lale hoos, i'th midst ov
a gert street Iwonin, I think tha wer brudders, for their cwoats
was like a slyated hoos-side; an tha wer as pale as deeth i'th fyace
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like Die sell ; roondt*fwoar-caw<l feeM was t' fii list gravel gyat thou
iver stept on, an thar was hundreds an tbouHans o' fwok stavian
about on't. T began to be as nu\d a.s T was at cwolly when it brack
^ neck o't bell-weth«*r, 'at tba waddt'nt htlp t' man and his nag
ac»»\u when lu \vui> aiiiyasu tlaiiv ; 1 was mial ah .swe Un- f«H'r, auJ
diU'Hu'c .say a word, becwo>e vhere was aiie iii\»iiy tiiiiu-u. iii> liat
men tht^er, \\n lyatlies, as luy caw tliem : i'd W\, cr a W-.w i'
Borrodale I asc a man 'at I kent, what wast matter wi'snni </<h
wummon fwuk ^lt tha war Hae bryad tea way, an he teltrue it was
a fashion to werr hnips ; nut a badden novvther if it kept their
Lgs ^ogiddLi', iov ti.jire war buiii o' ihem vaira bonny ', but 1 wa(i-
uent iiev yen o' iln^ii tor a Nvife an alie'daw Borrodale, wi'dout tha
wod dotf tht'ir biiips when tha ^ang ti> bed, t(»r thar as bryad as
enny be<i in Burnnlale, and thou knows thare wad be nea room
but a-top o' them, an what sleep could yan git a-top ov a whick
bed ; hang them ! thar aw white-heedit like our weet-miller lasses,
an tha toke an yilp like mice. 1 wunder what tha see 'at fancy
seek, but tha've a nice lile fuit, maks me think tha wad pruiv
nimmel shipperts ov our brant fells ; an we wad lem them to soav
and clip, an thair huip-pockets wad be varra sarviceable to put a
lam in ov aider side, in a coald mwomin in spring, when thair
starvt amyast an gits lale milk. But to be shwort, as our priest
sez in his sarment, I hedn't time to think ov ow this when I saw't,
for my fuit ran wimma throo amang fwoak an owr fwok sae fast, I
freetint them, tha thout 'at donnot was imma. Tha mud ha
thout reet if they'd thout 'at 't donnot had setten me forrat, for if
tha keep seek farlies o' purpos to freeten fwoks, thare's nea matter
ho menny o' them be trodden to deeth ; but I'll promise the I
niver stopt till I gat tull a sea-nag 'at com to England ; an I was
seek agyan afwore I gat hyam ; I could nouther eat nor drink aw
th' tin^e, an if thou saw me now thou cuddent tell me be a frosk
'at had been hung up bith heels i'th sunshine, an drydt to deeth,
for I's as thin as lantern leets. — I think thou munnet expect to see
me this munth, this is three days at hyam, an I've a stomack tit to
eat t' horse ehint t' saddle ; I get five myals o' day, and a snack
when 1 gang to bed. I whop I's git sti*ang agyan or't be lang an
than I'll cum to see thee. This is nobut like the clock when it gis
warain to strike twelve, to what I'll tell thee when I cum. — My
kind lyuiv tu thee, an may gyud luck keep thee fra aw 'at's bad,
an dunnet be keen o' gangin abruoad for feer th' donnot git thee.
Printed at the ''AdvertUer ' Office, The Gill^ Uluerston,
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